


Half Agony

by Ulalume (MalevolentReverie)



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chi-Chi Biography, Darkfic, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Mildly Dubious Consent, OOC Goku, POV First Person, Saiyan Culture, Self-Reflection, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 21:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/Ulalume
Summary: What we perceive can break so easily. What we want isn't always what we get. What we feel isn't always reciprocated. What we see isn't always what's truly there. Goku/Chi-Chi; darkfic; pair to "Half Hope" in Chi-Chi's POV. Chi-Chi reflecting on her entire life with Goku from start to happy finish.





	1. Chapter the First

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago and figured I'd post it wheeee

There’s a marked fragility to our perceptions of people.

It balances precariously on a margin of positive and negative; a neutral place where you are just comfortable enough with someone to suffice. One small indiscretion and your perception will tilt too far and shatter, grinding your preconceived notions to a fine powder before an apology can be uttered. It is a tightrope walk we all have to endure, struggling to hold ourselves up in the presence of others.

One day you meet someone and that agonizing play of self-control becomes nothing. You can be yourself for once—laugh and cry, talk and sit in utter silence, express your deepest wishes and worst desires. _Finally_ , you can breathe. It’s a lot like feeling the first touch of sunshine after a particularly harsh winter: the warm glow on your skin, pulling you out of the cold trenches and back to life.

Your shoulders droop on your tightrope and you collapse into their waiting arms without having to worry about judgment or shame. They will love you for all eternity. There is nothing they want more than to protect your heart and kiss your tears away. It is the ultimate satisfaction to know that you will be eternally loved and never have to worry about that terrible tightrope.

What we perceive can break so easily. What we want isn’t always what we get. What we feel isn’t always reciprocated. What we see isn’t always what is truly there.

 _Communication is key_. That was what they told me while zipping up my wedding dress. _If you keep a man’s stomach full he will never stray._ I’d laugh and wave them off. Goku’s appetite wasn’t anything new to me. The first thing he would want to do on our honeymoon would involve a buffet.

I looked beautiful. My hair was braided with flowers carefully knit into the folds. Goku and I had saved my mother’s wedding dress and I couldn’t be happier. There were even doves. I eagerly clutched my bouquet while Bulma stood back and held her hands over her mouth, eyes glittering with mixed envy and awe. Everything fit me to a “t.”

_Goku is so innocent. He won’t even know what to do when you’re naked._

Bulma clapped her hands when I twirled. “Oh, Chi-Chi, you look stunning! He isn’t gonna know what to do with himself when he sees you!”

It was already established that I was the commander in Goku and I’s relationship. He hung back and followed my orders, afraid to say anything different. I smiled and looked at myself in the mirror, admiring the make-up and general splendor of my wedding day. We were eighteen. The two of us were still kids who had no real direction in life yet.

Head trauma wasn’t enough to keep Goku placid and gentle.

My song started and I hurried to meet my father, who had somehow squeezed himself into a suit. He wiped tears from his eyes and I kissed his unshaven cheek. Poor papa. He was so happy to see me happy but deep down he knew I was making a mistake. He wanted me to be content. He kept his mouth closed and stuffed his opinion so far down his throat that I worried he’d choke on it.

The curtains of the tent I was set up in were pulled back and my eyes immediately moved to the altar where he was waiting for me. Goku had his hands clasped in front of him and he was looking up at the sky, squinting toward some unseen object. Krillin jabbed him in the ribs and jerked his head in my direction but Goku still hesitated before looking.

It was like gazing into my future when our eyes met. His black hair swayed gently in the breeze and he grinned widely at me. I could see it all: the small house dad built for us, kids running around in our backyard, a pet dog barking and panting while Goku tilled the garden. I would keep our house spotless and neat and always make sure there was dinner on the table for our family.

Guests murmured and nodded in appreciation of my dress as I proceeded down the walkway. I felt incredibly shy for some reason with Goku’s eyes on me and pressed closer to my father. He put one giant hand over mine and squeezed. It wasn’t reassuring. It was nervous.

We stood beside one another while the priest recited his lines. Goku didn’t hide his boredom very well even though I repeatedly told him to do so. He glanced around and put his hands in his pockets while people in the crowd snickered, familiar with his antics. Krillin shook his head and I shot my fiancé a dirty look until he calmed down and stood stone still. I didn’t want him interfering with my big day.

 “Sure!” I heard Goku said brightly.

I’d started daydreaming during the vows. I quickly regained my composure and smiled when the priest turned to ask if I accepted Goku as my lawfully wedded husband. Back then, we all thought Goku was a normal human being. He was the epitome of selflessness: kind and generous, unlike most of the people in or near West City. Grandpa Gohan had raised his son perfectly.

 “I do,” I said.

_Goku is so sweet. He wouldn’t hurt a fly._

 “Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

My new husband blinked in surprise and I rolled my eyes, turning to take his face between my hands. His black eyes were wide with confusion as I swiftly moved forward to kiss him on the mouth. He drew back in surprise while everyone started cheering and clapping, touching his mouth with a furrowed brow. I laughed and started to turn when he suddenly grabbed me to initiate an even more intense kiss.

It was the first signal. I ignored it, pinning the behavior on his excitement. He was unwilling to pull away from me and continued staring at me in awe even as we walked down the aisle together. I waved, beaming so bright I could’ve lit up a faraway planet.

The reception was short and pleasant. I couldn’t wait to leave for our honeymoon for obvious reasons and Goku soon became likewise invigorated, making sure he made rounds to talk to everyone I pointed out. We opened gifts, ate cake, danced and laughed the entire day away. It was the greatest kind of drug. I was married to a perfect man who couldn’t keep his eyes off me.

Literally.

We sat down together during a slow song and I leaned my head on his shoulder. He pressed his face into my hair and inhaled deeply. Everyone else was out enjoying the music, slowly swaying to the melody. Even Yamcha and Bulma had set aside their differences for a pleasant evening.

 “This was a perfect day,” I murmured. “Thank you for working so hard, Goku. I can’t wait to go back to our new house and just relax together. Isn’t it so exciting?”

My husband shifted. His jaw clenched. “Yeah, it sure is. I want to do that thing again that we did at the altar. It felt gross before but now I like it.” He snapped his fingers to summon the memory. “Kissing! Yeah, I like kissing. Want to do it right now?”

 “We can’t, silly. Not with all these people around. But I’ll give you plenty of kisses later on.”

That seemed to placate him. For a while.

Soon the reception was over and we were getting ready to leave. The Nimbus came along to give us a ride and Goku scooped me up in his arms as I waved farewell to all our family and friends. It was pure bliss. I couldn’t wait to begin my long, happy life with Goku.

We arrived at the house and everything seemed normal enough. Dad had already moved my things in so we could enjoy our alone time. I giggled as Goku carried me inside, effortlessly shifting me from one arm to the next to open the door. God, he was so strong. I appreciated it when he was tearing holes through our enemy’s chests or otherwise protecting me but it was about to become my worst enemy.

It was dark inside. My husband set me on my feet and scratched his head, searching for a light switch while I struggled to unzip my dress. It was going to be difficult to catch Goku’s attention but Bulma had given me a few tips, though I blushed and hid my face the entire time. I didn’t want to talk about it. She had known Goku even longer than me and part of me was jealous.

My feet ached terribly so I kicked my shoes off. My zipper had gotten snagged in the back, which meant I was trapped in my dress until I could get help. I huffed impatiently and called Goku for help.

He peered around the corner of the kitchen. The house was still dark. “What’s wrong, Chi?”

 “I can’t get my dress off.” I turned in circles, desperately pulling at the zipper. It was precious to me because it belonged to my mother but it hadn’t been worn in so long that parts weren’t fitting together right. “Can you help me? Please be careful.”

The sound of his feet moving with heavy deliberateness toward me didn’t raise any flags. I threw up my hands in defeat and crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for my husband to help me out. He was always solving my problems now. I could rest easy with Son Goku by my side.

He tried for a few seconds, muttering about pesky clothes. The zipper didn’t budge a centimeter. My hair was still in a ponytail but it was so long that I had to hold it out of the way. He kept trying until I stepped forward and waved him away, worried that he would rip my only memory of mom. After all, we were still teenagers. Our hormones were running wild.

Goku stepped forward. “C’mon, I can get it.”

I stepped back. It was a beautiful ballet. “No way, you’re not careful enough. I’ll get it and meet you upstairs in a few minutes. I think it’s starting to come loose…”

He twisted his neck a few times like he had something stuck in it. I’d never seen Goku annoyed before so I didn’t know what to make of it. Then he stepped toward me again and I glared at him before shuffling back another foot, keeping space between us. Jeez, didn’t he get it? I wanted space.

 “Let me help,” he repeated. “I wanna kiss again like before and—”

 “ _No_. Go upstairs and wait for me, Goku. You need to learn some patience.”

Ah, a lover’s quarrel. It had the ability to bring out things no one wanted to see.

My husband puffed up irately. He wasn’t accustomed to being forceful. “Chi-Chi, I’m just trying to help you. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? I promise I won’t rip the dress, even though I don’t get why you care so much about it.”

 “You’ll rip it.”

 “No, I won’t. I swear. I can be gentle.”

One would think that was _all_ Son Goku knew. I learned quickly that it wasn’t the case. Sometimes, he couldn’t control himself. Emotions boiled over and took control.

I poked my index finger into his chest. This was what brought out the nastiness in me. People didn’t understand what it was like living with him and that was compounded by us not understanding his heritage. We were so confused. We didn’t know what to do. Goku didn’t know what to do.

In the next moment I was slammed against the wall, forcing my hands away from my back to brace my body for the impact. Empty picture frames rattled as I stared in shock at Goku through the thickening darkness that covered our new home. He was scowling. I had never seen him so upset before.

He rubbed the back of his head, immediately backing down into submission. “Gosh, I’m so sorry, Chi. Really, I didn’t meant to push you like that. Guess we can’t fight like we used to, huh?”

It was what he knew. It was _all_ he knew. No one had taught him to control the raging monster within; the gnawing drive to beat the life out of other people for fun—the desire to conquer. It was a trait of his entire race and it still burned in him. Maybe it was the moon or maybe it was his age that finally brought it out into the light for my love-clouded eyes. My mouth ran dry.

No. It was a fluke. He was tired.

I recollected myself. “It’s okay. I’ll get this thing off somehow.”

My husband shoved a fist to his mouth and started gnawing on his knuckles like a teething toddler. He kept his other arm firmly secured under the first like he was afraid he would do something bad with it. I was a bit shaken from his outburst. It wasn’t like the Goku I knew.

The dream was dissipating fast in our darkened little home nestled in the mountains. I could feel it all slipping through my fingers, melting under the intensity of my opened eyes. Goku was not perfect.

Again he stepped toward me, falling back slightly on his heel. He was restraining himself. Why? “Please, Chi-Chi, I’m trying to ask nicely for you to let me help.”

 “You look pale. Maybe you should go to bed and we can—”

The life I had inherited had not followed an easy path. I had witnessed horrors, including watching my fiancé have a hole blown through his chest, but I still stayed strong. Papa had raised me to be strong-willed and no nonsense like my mother; the type of woman who could run a household and keep her husband in line. I never imagined feeling any kind of fear around Son Goku.

But when his two big hands shoved me violently into the wall again I became paralyzed. He held his palms to my shoulders this time to keep me in place and I wanted to disappear. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and a remorseful sheen turned his black eyes a light grey.

Then he stumbled back, rubbing his eyes with his forearm. “I think I need some fresh air.”

I couldn’t bring myself to watch him leave. My body was trembling.

Our bliss had begun.

 


	2. Chapter the Second

My only solace was the ticking clock looming over our bed. The rest of the new house was dark and still like a corpse, slowly going cold as the witching hour fell over Mt. Paozu. The birds fell silent outside. Not even the crickets chirped as the two hands on the clock came together.

Time stood still. I was sitting up in bed pressed against the headboard, finally free of my wedding dress and wearing thick pajamas to bed. My nails had been gnawed to the quick during my long wait for Goku to return and I continually battled myself over whether or not I should just go home. Maybe he didn’t want me but had no idea how to put it into words.

It was long, painful moments like those when I wished my mother was still alive to comfort me. I had grown up without her guidance. Papa let me do what I wanted to keep me happy and I developed into a wild child. I thought Goku understood that better than anyone.

Goku was strange but he was still a human being.

The door burst open downstairs, colliding with the wall so hard I could hear the wall crack from the pressure. I quickly moved to get up out bed in hopes that I could talk to my husband a bit more. I’d sorted everything out now. If he wasn’t feeling well we could go to bed and I would make him something to help his stomach relax. Mom’s cookbooks were already in the kitchen.

My feet had scarcely touched the cold hardwood floor when the bedroom door flew open and Goku stumbled inside, leaning on the frame for support. His shoulders were heaving and sweat was pouring down his chest like he had just gotten into some kind of fight.

But in spite of his lacerations and general malaise, I felt no urge to get out of bed and help him. His black eyes wandered dolefully across the room like he was half-asleep, prompting me to crawl back into bed and pull the covers up to my neck. I’d never noticed how tall he was.

Goku wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slumped toward the floor. I stared at him like a deer in headlights, waiting for whatever punishment would come.

 “Chi-Chi?” he mumbled, squinting at me through the darkness. “Chi, please help. I… I feel so weird… so sick…” He clutched his head and I could have sworn I heard him growl. “Please help me. I ran around and punched stuff for a while but… nothing helps. Please make it go away.”

After raising two beautiful sons I grew to realize that no eighteen year old was prepared for marriage. There was too strong of a commitment for such young people and it was very easy to crack and splinter under the pressure. I slid further under my covers and tears slid down my cheeks. All I wanted was my papa to come save me. I didn’t know why I had even married Goku.

How was I supposed to take care of another person? The thought of having children suddenly felt terrifying. Would Goku be mean to them? Was he mean all the time? No, he just had to be tired from the wedding. He didn’t like going to parties. He’d rather do something quieter.

My husband teetered toward me like he was drunk. He covered his face with his hands and shook his head while I prayed I could disappear into the bed sheets. His skin was flushed pink—he really had been exercising hard, probably trying to blow off steam, and made himself sick in the process.

When Goku finally collapsed beside me my body went ramrod straight. Heat emanated from him, solidifying my fear that he was much sicker than I imagined. What was I supposed to do?! He weighed a ton and the nearest hospital was at least an hour away. I never thought of those kinds of things before: what we would do when illness struck or one of us hurt ourselves.

Those were adult problems. Papa usually solved them for me. We had a personal doctor to tend to us and I wasn’t expected to do much around the house. I was always free to fight or adventure where I wanted to. Responsibility had never weighed heavily upon my shoulders.

Still, there I was, an eighteen year old girl lying in paralyzed fear beside her delirious new husband who was near tears from the agony he was in. He’d suffered a gaping hole in his chest so his pain brought fresh fear. What could bring Son Goku so close to sobbing?

The phone started ringing across the room and I leapt at the chance to get it. Before I could get up one of Goku’s big hands grabbed my wrists and firmly pushed down, keeping me attached to the bed. He slowly pushed himself on his side so I could see his tear-streaked face illuminated by the moon. Gently, he tugged on my wrist, willing me to come closer; begging to be taken care of.

My husband would never cry again, not even when our son died. I thought I accidentally taught him that tears were scary things to avoid but he never seemed to mind my sobbing.

My hand trembled as I reached out toward his forehead, slick with a layer of sweat. His exhausted black eyes closed when my skin touched his and I quickly drew my wrist back, stunned by the temperature of his head. He was literally boiling up—I wouldn’t have been surprised if his organs disintegrated.

 “What’s wrong with me?” Goku asked. The sound of his voice broke my heart.

It was not how I planned our wedding night. I wished it was all a bad dream.

I glanced down to see the sheets were becoming drenched with sweat and an idea struck me. Papa always gave me tons of water when I was sick so Goku probably needed the same thing. There was a lake not too far away where he could wash off the sweat and have something clean to drink.

The hand holding mine down suddenly snapped back to his chest, curling in a ball over his heart. He grimaced, reduced to whimpering from the severity of his pain. I hated it. I hated watching him in so much agony while I could only sit and watch. I carefully got out of bed, aware of the phone still ringing off the hook and the eerie way it echoed through the house.

Confused ebony eyes followed me to the closet. I took out as many of Goku’s training shirts as I could, intending on using them to dry him off after we were done, and bundled myself up in a sweater to keep warm in the cool night. Goku propped himself up on an elbow and collapsed promptly, twisting in bed.

 “Okay,” I said, running a hand through my hair, “okay. Um… okay. Can you walk? I want to bring you to the lake up the hill. It isn’t very far so you should be able to make it.”

Goku nodded, tears budding at the corners of his eyes. He managed to get out of bed and swayed on his feet until I caught him and nearly collapsed under his weight. We somehow got downstairs and out of the house into the breezy front yard that was just in front of the forest. The moon was full. I’d never imagined something to beautiful could bring so much heartache.

Those were the times that solidified my relationship with Goku. It was those two years before Gohan came into the world, where my husband and I were put through the hardest trials of our marriage. I liked to think it was those experiences that made being without him just a bit easier. Sometimes I pretended his feverish body was beside mine but I never cried. He didn’t like tears.

We made our way through the forest to the calm lake where a herd of deer were having a drink. They became utterly still as we approached and their ears swiveled around to gauge whether or not it was a good idea to run. Goku fully collapsed a few feet before the lake on all fours and I had to pull him the rest of the way, which was no easy feat in spite of my rigorous training.

The shoreline was shallow enough for me to prop him up without worrying about accidentally drowning him. He slumped forward, shoulders heaving from the force of his breathing, and I quickly pushed him back. His shirt had soaked through but I hesitated in taking it off. It felt like I was violating him.

But push came to shove when Goku’s breathing violently transformed into coughing. I dampened my hands with water to give him some relief and slid my palms up his ribs to peel the training shirt off, trying to be perfectly professional and polite during the process. He was sick. I didn’t want to be ogling his half-naked body when he could hardly breathe.

It was the worst fear I had ever felt, sitting helpless in a lake watching Goku dying before my eyes. He was always so sweet and gentle so I never thought anything bad would happen to him. I gnawed my nails for a few moments before deciding to lay him down in the water, which he didn’t seem to mind. But when I moved to sit beside him he grabbed my wrist again to pull himself toward me and before I knew it, Goku’s head was in my lap.

I probably turned fifteen shades of red. He groaned again and I sprang into action without thinking, cupping water in my hands to drizzle through his thick hair. Thankfully, it seemed to be helping. His breathing slowed down somewhat and he moved his arms from his stomach to scratch at the pebbly shoreline, beginning to show signs of life and recovery.

 “We can call a doctor tomorrow,” I said. “I’m sorry that I panicked.”

Goku was quiet for a while. My heart twisted painfully as I realized he was angry with my inability to perform under pressure and I relegated myself to cleaning him with the lake water.

 “It won’t go away.”

I glanced up. “What won’t? Do you still feel sick?”

He tilted his head back to look up at me and I was met with a frighteningly sight. Red was seeping into the whites of Goku’s eyes like a creeping poison. His head tilted slightly and he smiled.

 “I’ve been through worse. You saw just a few weeks ago when Piccolo left me uh… a little empty in the middle. But I guess this is a different kind of being sick.”

 “You’ll be okay.” I tried to be reassuring but it was extremely difficult.

Goku suddenly sat up, sitting cross-legged in front of me. He draped his hands in his lap and leaned toward me until I began to pull back instinctively. The red was spreading further. I could have sworn I felt the moon burning on my back.

 “I don’t like to hurt people,” he said. His head tilted the other way. “I mean, I like to fight, but I don’t want to really hurt anybody. That’s mean. But… D’you think it’s okay to want to hurt sometimes? To do whatever pops into your head and worry about it later?”

 “You already do that. I haven’t seen you think through many of your plans.”

 “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Chi.” Goku scratched his head, smiling faintly. He was still staring dead into my eyes. “But this feels like a really bad burn in my heart. I tried to ignore it but I won’t go away.”

Curious minnows swam up to nibble at our toes. The water wasn’t very cold thanks to the heat radiating from Goku. I stared back into his reddening eyes and wondered what exactly I had gotten myself into. This was not the man I had rescued my mother’s wedding dress with. He was tormented.

I shrugged, wrapping my arms around myself. “We can ask the doctor tomorrow. Do you want to try heading back to the house? Sleep is probably the best—”

There was a loud splash as Goku suddenly pushed me down on my back, fully drenching my thick sweater in water. He was between my legs, gently holding my face while I shifted on the pebbles, flustered by his strange behavior and the cold water gnawing at my bones. He scrutinized my face for a few moments and I once again became completely still. His broad shoulders blocked out the moon.

A small, disarming smile touched his mouth. “I don’t want to sleep. I never sleep when there’s a full moon.”

Then his mouth crushed mine in a bruising kiss and one thing began to rapidly lead to another. His eyes became such a vibrant red that they seemed to glow in the pitch blackness. The only sound was the wind whistling through the autumn leaves and the shifting of our bodies in the water. I clung to him when tears stung my eyes, burying my face in his neck to remain as quiet as possible.

Goku growled on top of me, pinning my wrists to the rough pebbles so I was forced to look at him. I was squirming in pain. He didn’t bother taking my clothes off. It wasn’t what I played over and over again in my head. I’d imagined being unwrapped like a present and having to keep him from running away in terror. He never understood those types of things. Bulma always complained about how he would unwittingly violate people’s personal space.

There was desperation in his movements. Clothing was moved just out of the way; just enough that our bodies could fit together. Back then Goku wasn’t as muscular. It became worse the more he trained. His strength became a double-edged sword that I routinely cursed. Why me? Why us?

My body arched from the fresh, searing pain between my legs. He held my wrists down fast as I twisted them in his grasp and began to whimper. I’d hoped he would understand and comfort me like any normal man but a low warning growl reverberated in his chest. My lower lip quivered when I tried to stay silent. It hurt. Why didn’t he care?

By the end, I was too tired to bother with crying. I shivered when Goku pulled away, smiling so brightly it nearly blinded me. He lifted me out of the water to set me on the grass and I lay down as pain began to throb in different areas, a reminder of what had just happened. My husband stripped out of his clothes to change into the ones I had brought before walking over to stand over me.

Goku put his hands on his hips. “What’re you still doing down there? Don’t you want to go home and go to bed? Gosh, I know I feel a lot better now.” He tangled his fingers in his hair, laughing.

It took a long time for the ice in my veins to develop. I’d started out wanting nothing more than to make Goku happy but it was things like his blatant disregard for my feelings that drove me to become the frigid Son Chi-Chi everyone became familiar with. They rolled their eyes when I screamed and muttered amongst themselves, calling me various names. None of them had to live with him.

His words cut me like a knife. I had waited my entire life for him and he threw away our first time together like it was nothing. He had become something else; something I really hated to see. I didn’t have a name for the darkness swirling in Goku until the Saiyans arrived years later. I was lost and betrayed by the one person I believed I could trust.

I just wanted to stop walking the damn tightrope. With Goku, it was a constant battle.

My body trembled with rage and cold as I pushed myself up. I leaned over, dripping lake water on the palms of my quivering hands. “I can’t walk.”

It was true. Everything burned to some degree.

Goku cocked his head. “Why not? You walked me all the way up here.”

In an instant I was on my feet in his face, no longer restraining the anger boiling through me. I slapped Goku across the face hard enough to turn his head and he clutched the spot, gawking at me in shock. A bright red welt appeared and I couldn’t help but notice his eyes returned to normal.

 “You ruined _everything_!” I wailed. “Why do you have to be such a jerk, Goku?! You weren’t even nice to me during it even though it hurt so much and I didn’t want to in the middle of the woods.” I stomped forward and he back up, eyes wide with terror. “Why don’t you ever think of anyone except yourself? Don’t you understand basic human emotion? Do you have an empathy? Now everything is ruined because all you care about is whatever stupid thought pops into your head!”

Part of it was because he let me scream. I figured I grew to enjoy watching a man twice my size cowering in fear in front of me, seriously concerned about being slapped. Goku did just that: he shrank back and nodded in agreement with my unbridled fury.

 “I’m… I-I’m s-so-sorry,” he stammered, protecting his face.

 “That doesn’t change anything! I hate you!” I picked up a rock and threw it at his arm, ready to explode. “Go away and never come back. I don’t want to see you again.”

Goku dropped his hands defensively, palms facing upwards. “Please, Chi-Chi, I… I couldn’t help it. Sometimes I just can’t control myself no matter how hard I try and—where are you going?!”

I was already walking back down the mountain, shivering miserably from the cold and about to burst into tears. He immediately followed after me and reached out to grab my arm which resulted in another swift slap across the face. But he followed anyhow, pleading and begging while I repeatedly told him to leave me alone. I’d never been so furious in my life and I doubted I would be again.

Back at the house I tried to shut the door in Goku’s face but he shoved it open and followed me inside. I threw whatever I could find at his head while he gritted his teeth to keep from crying. He never yelled. It was only me and boy, could I scream.

But when I rushed up to stairs to get the phone and call Bulma he was right behind me, ignoring my shrieks to rip it out of my hand and put it back in the cradle. I smacked him over and over again but he was too beside himself with confusion to worry about it. He pushed me backwards until we both toppled over on the bed, once again trapping me underneath his incredible weight.

 “Get _off_ me!” I screamed. “I’m telling my papa and he’s gonna kill you!”

 “No, no, no, I didn’t mean it! It was burning so bad and I felt so sick. B-but let me m-m-make it up to you. We can do it here a-and I’ll be r-really nice.” His eyes were wild; bewildered with the ferocity of my emotion. He wanted to fix it like always.

I shoved against his shoulders. Our fight in the tournament hadn’t been very long for a reason. Goku was much stronger than me, though he hid it well. All of my training had been in vain.

Goku twisted his neck. “Please stop yelling. It makes me burn more.”

What we perceive can break so easily. What we want isn't always what we get. What we feel isn't always reciprocated. What we see isn't always what is truly there.


	3. Chapter the Third

  _“Hey, Chi-Chi, it’s Bulma! I know you and your new hubby are too busy to answer the phone but try to give me a call back tonight so I can tell everyone you’re okay. Don’t worry, I didn’t give them your number. It’s only me pestering the love birds!”_

Beneath the covers, I was alone. I’d been awake for some time with my eyes glued to the freshly painted ceiling as I waited in mild terror for Goku to return. He’d disappeared at some point. I would grow accustomed to being without my husband when I needed him most. The agony of loss would haunt me time and time again. It became a cycle of regret and resentment that I never escaped.

Everything hurt in varying degrees but the worst of it was between my legs. I was shivering, taking shallow breaths of the thin morning air and trying to remain perfectly still. My muscles felt like they were sliding off my bone from overuse, creating a dull, aching pain the likes of which I had never felt before. I was afraid to move. I didn’t know if I was bleeding or had any other injuries.

What did I do? Did I call our friends and tell them Goku was a violent man who couldn’t be trusted? Did I shatter the image of perfection that shined in all of their eyes when they saw him smile? Only I was privy to the gruesome side of Son Goku that emerged when the moon was full.

Trembling, I raised my arms from my sides to push back to the sheets, whimpering from the bitingly cold air. Fall hadn’t even come full circle yet and it was already miserably frigid in the morning. I wanted the warm summer back. At least that would give me an excuse to leave the house.

Something told me that I didn’t want to see the extent of the damage. I distinctly remembered wanting to cry but tears wouldn’t come out of my eyes, leaving me awkwardly dry heaving as I reached for Goku’s training shirt to cover myself. He’d taken off my clothes like I wanted. They were torn up in a pile on the floor, still damp from the lake water. If I had just been quiet…

My eyes fell upon my hands but I steeled myself to remain calm, pulling on the shirt that draped down to my knees. It was what I had dreaded: there were purple bruises wrapped around my skin and it hurt to twist my wrist in any particular way. I was still in one piece yet somehow badly broken.

The pads of my feet carefully settled on the floor and I pushed myself out of bed. All of the muscle pain caught up with me at once and I squealed as my legs gave out beneath me, sending me crashing back into bed. My ears rang. The world swirled into a big mass of black and orange and I wondered if I was going to die. At that point, I wanted to. I’d made a terrible mistake.

Delirious from the pain, I raised my head to see a familiar mess of black hair in the doorway of the bedroom. Goku was hanging back into the hall with his hands clutching the frame, watching warily as I glared at him from the bed. He was wearing boxers and a black t-shirt instead of the ridiculous orange getup he usually sported. He stepped forward with the deliberation of a hunter gauging his prey.

 “I’m better now,” he said. He wrung his hands, shifting nervously on his feet.

It was the excuse of a child who had vomited on the new carpet during a stomach bug. He knew he was wrong but didn’t want to admit fault on account of his age and innocence. The illness had driven him to do what he did. I was being forced to clean up the mess.

I propped myself up on an elbow, too weak to throw a pillow or scream. “Is that a joke? Am I supposed to forgive you because you feel better? That isn’t how this works, Goku. You were horrible to me and now I’m in a lot of pain. I’m calling everyone to tell them and you can live here by yourself and do whatever crazy things you were talking about.”

Goku stepped closer. He looked terrified. “Please don’t! I’m sorry but… I can’t control it sometimes. When there’s a full moon I just want to break stuff and hurt people and… and… and then when you kissed me at the wedding it all turned and I wanted you instead.” He shook his head rapidly back and forth like he was dispelling a bad memory. “No, no, no, I don’t want to hurt you; not at all.”

 “I have no idea what you’re talking about but I’m not waiting around for you to spit it out. I’ll ask papa to come get my things and we’ll figure out the rest. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you act like this. Papa raised me to be better than that and he warned me—”

 “When you struggle it burns more,” Goku blurted. “It’s… it’s like a bad sunburn. It’s annoying all the time but I can usually ignore it until the sun comes out and makes it burn. Then I can’t. I have to do something or I’ll go crazy. I thought you wanted to use the bed but when I tried to you were still upset and yelled at me. Then I get confused and don’t know what to do anymore.”

 “You seem to be thinking crystal clear when you’re fighting Piccolo.” I managed to sit up fully, though it pulled mercilessly on the muscles in my back. “I don’t think I can help you. Next time you could hurt me even worse and I don’t want to die or something. See if Bulma can use her lab to make a cure.”

Those weren’t the hardest times that would fall upon Goku and I. We began to fit together after a while and fell into a daily rhythm that was violently upset on more than one occasion. He would die twice, both times abandoning me to raise our children alone. For a while, I hoped we were moving in the right direction but it never came to pass. We were doomed to push and pull.

My husband swallowed and dropped his trembling hands to pull on his fingers. “Please, Chi-Chi, I’m begging you. I didn’t mean it. You know I’m nice. I just can’t help it when the burn comes.”

One thing always remained, though: I was a sucker for Goku’s heartfelt, childish apologies. It must have been in the way his eyes watered or maybe I really _was_ a sadist and enjoyed watching the strongest man in the universe crumble at my feet. Either way, I couldn’t resist him.

 “Fine,” I snapped, “but I’m still mad at you.”

 “Yes, yes, I know.” His mood brightened dramatically and he moved toward me again, still hesitant. “D’you want some help?”

Somehow, I got out of bed without Goku’s help. I wobbled on my feet but pushed him away when he came over to help and made my way to the bathroom for a shower. While I washed off and examined the bruises on my wrists I could hear his fingers tapping the wall on the other side as he waited impatiently for me to return.

Back then, I hoped he wasn’t going to follow me everywhere. As the years passed I regretted that kind of selfish thinking. I’d only wanted to be left alone. During the long spans of loneliness, when I sat up at night sobbing and waiting for him to crawl into bed beside me, I cursed my shortsightedness.

There was still moderate tension between us as I made my way downstairs to start breakfast. I knew there was more Goku wanted to say but he didn’t know how, and he was afraid of the backlash he’d receive. So he remained near the entrance to the kitchen twiddling his thumbs while I grimaced and prepared food for both of us. I was exhausted and still in significant pain but my husband was helpless.

It would be two years before we had Gohan. Thankfully, we grew accustomed to Goku’s gruesome behavior and could plan accordingly for when it happened. He could be wonderful and sweet but the slightest action on my part could trigger the awakened creature within to claw its way out.

Trial and error was the only way I learned. Goku figured out a few things and worked on controlling himself but things were never easy for the two of us. No one understood what was wrong with Goku until the truth of his heritage came to light and Vegeta grudgingly offered to help.

One of Goku’s strongest triggers was fear. We pinned it on my yelling at first but I began to suspect, after reading a few science books, that there was some sort of pleasure he derived from fear. It wasn’t a conscious desire but it still existed. I could scream at him all I wished: it actually scared him quite a bit. But the moment my façade slipped and I showed that I was afraid…

Saiyans lived to dominate. Weakness in their quarry excited them.

We ate quietly. His black eyes would watch me sometimes, searching for any signs of forgiveness or joy. I had no interest in satiating Goku’s enduring hunger for approval so I examined the eggs on my plate with great interest and pretended not to see him. My stomach was full long before his and I hobbled from the room to sit on the couch and rest my aching body.

Goku finished eating and washed the dishes. It was a rare treat. He eventually avoided chores altogether and I pushed them on Gohan to get some extra help around the house. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes to listen to the birds beginning to chirp outside.

The couch shifted. “So… um…” His fingers drummed together. It was hard to create conversation—Goku hated smalltalk and thus, avoided parties. “Being married is neat. What other kinds of stuff do we do?”

 “Nothing. It’s not terribly exciting until you have kids or get a job.” One of my eyes cracked open to look at my husband’s curious face. “I doubt you could hold a job.”

 “Probably not. I’d get bored and leave. But that’s okay, because I can win tournaments and make money for us that way. Then when we have a baby we won’t have anything to worry about!”

 “Mhm,” I said.

The two of us lapsed into silence again. I couldn’t picture having children with Goku after witnessing his strange transformation the night before. My body shivered slightly at the thought and I felt his warm hand on my shoulder, trying to steady me somehow.

We ultimately went outside for to enjoy the changing foliage as fall settled on Mt. Paozu. Gradually I became comfortable beside him again and sat between his legs while he chattered about how peaceful everything was and promised he wouldn’t hurt me again. I smiled faintly as he drew his fingers through my hair, lulling me to sleep.

He gently kissed the crown of my skull. “I’m gonna make sure you’re happy, Chi-Chi. No matter what.”


	4. Chapter the Fourth

The lights over my head whirred incessantly as I waited for my doctor to return. I was nervously biting my nails to see the results of the tests—I’d been feeling ill lately and wanted to make sure nothing was wrong. Goku and I didn’t exactly have the money for health insurance so all I could do was rely upon free clinics whenever they passed through West City. Normally, I avoided doctors altogether and waited for my body to set things right.

Papa had a personal doctor at home but I wanted to take care of myself and stop relying on him to help me with everything. Goku and I had been making it somehow for a year. We were both 19 and learned how to behave around one another for the most part. His episodes were few and far between, only occurring during the full moon or when he got back from training especially hard.

Things were getting easier. I had to constantly stay on my toes and harshly rebuke Goku when he stepped out of line because it was the only thing that calmed his temporary insanity. He would shrink back and slink off to occupy himself with something else, leaving me with free time to cook dinner or clean the house. Time passed quickly and I began to realize that being married wasn’t easy.

There was a knock on the door and I straightened up, smoothing down my hospital gown. The doctor stepped inside and smiled at me but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She sat on her rolling stool that glided several inches across the cracked tiles and lifted a sheet up on her chart. I tried to smile. It wasn’t an easy thing to do when even the doctor looked worried. What if I had cancer? What if I got the strange disease that took my mother away from me?

The doctor set the chart on the table and leaned forward. She was middle-aged with blonde hair and big glasses that slumped down her nose. Her face was friendly and inviting. “So, Chi-Chi, everything in your exam checked out great. There is one thing that I think you’ll be surprised to know.” Her eyes fell upon my ring finger. “You’re married, correct? That’s what the nurses up front told me.”

 “Yes, my husband and I just don’t wear our rings anymore. Our hands get too dirty doing work in the yard and whatnot. What’s wrong? Is it something serious?”

 “Well… yes.” The doctor wheeled back to squint at my chart like she couldn’t remember a damn thing. “Your urine test showed that you’re pregnant. Now, I understand you’re married but you’re still only 19 so perhaps a relative can help you make the right choice in the situation. You indicated that neither you nor your husband is currently employed, so…”

The rest of her words were lost to me. I became acutely aware of my own heartbeat over the noise of the lights and the droning of the doctor. My fingers felt cold. What the hell had I been expecting? Of course I was going to wind up pregnant after how many times Goku and I had sex. Part of me thought it would never happen but that was just wishful thinking.

How were we supposed to take care of a _baby_? We had a hard enough time trying to make our relationship work and a screaming child at three in the morning would make it even harder. I wasn’t even 20 yet. I wanted to put off kids for a bit longer until we were more stable. Goku didn’t have a job, I had no way of getting a job… we had made a huge mistake and there was no going back.

But the woman sitting in front of me kept prattling on. “…Adoption is always a possibility if you don’t have the means to care for a child right now. There’s no harm in admitting your present shortcomings and I’m sure we could set you up to meet a nice family who would be more than happy to—”

Terrified to the point of hysterics I got off the examination table, gathered my clothes, and left the room. My doctor hurried after me yelling that I needed to set up all kinds of different appointments for ultrasounds and amniotic tests and blood tests but I was already halfway out the door. I left hurriedly, twisting my loosely tied hair into knots.

It was a long walk through West City to Mt. Paozu. Goku and I didn’t have a car so I was on my own most of the time without the Nimbus to carry me. I gnawed on my nails, hardly paying attention to the other people walking down the sidewalk. It was a balmy spring day and my birthday was rapidly approaching. How could I celebrate my birthday if I had a baby to worry about? We needed to start getting a room ready and figuring out where he would go to school and…

The trek home consisted of me muttering to myself like a crazy person. Even the animals looked at me strangely as I walked past them, following the dirt road up and through Mt. Paozu. I was almost entirely on my own. Papa wouldn’t understand because he was a man, all our friends hadn’t spoken to us in almost a year, and Goku would just scratch his head and look confused.

I was relieved and terrified when I finally arrived at our little home, smoke curling from the chimney into the darkening sky. The lights were on, which meant Goku was home from training. I tiredly approached and wrung my hands trying to think of a way to broach the subject. We would have to have the baby at home and Goku wouldn’t understand how to help me during the birthing process. Dear lord, I was up shit creek without a damn paddle.

The front door burst open and Goku squinted through the encroaching darkness at me. He beamed but his joy slowly faded when he noticed I was still in the hospital gown. I probably looked insane. Luckily, I felt crazy enough not to care what anyone thought of me.

My husband scratched his head, leaning on the door. “Chi? Is that you?”

Tears were already brimming in my eyes as I nodded quickly. He cocked his head, still several feet away, and awkwardly hopped to the ground with his hands on his hips. I fingered my clothes still clutched in my hands and sniffled despondently. Goku leaned forward and propped my chin up on his fingertip. He ran his thumb underneath my eye carefully, bewildered by my emotion. I tried to keep it hidden. Crying could trigger him into his violent state.

The moon was nowhere to be seen in the sky. It was new, which meant I was safe for the time being. I burst into tears and Goku immediately drew back in fear of the emotional eruption. But I collapsed forward against him and he was forced to hold me up, uncomfortably patting the back of my head. He tried to extricate himself from my grasp a few times and rubbed the back of his head when it failed.

 “Well… gee, Chi-Chi,” he muttered. “What’re you so worked up about?”

Soon he brought me inside and set me down on the couch where I continued to sob. He stood across from me wringing his fingers and paced back and forth, heavily disturbed by my crying but unsure of how to deal with it. It was frustrating not to be comforted when I needed it most. Being married to Goku was a lot like raising a child already.

I flew up, boiling with rage. “I’m _pregnant_ you idiot! Can’t you even tell?! You don’t pay attention to anything and… and…” I grabbed a pillow and flung it at his head but he dodged it with ease and picked it up as I readied another projectile. “Why won’t you just stay still for five seconds so I can hit you?! Why do you hate being around me so much you buffoon?!”

 “The burn comes back!” he said, protecting himself from another thrown pillow. “I just don’t want to hurt you and it’s harder if we’re together all the time. I need to burn off steam and… did you say you’re pregnant? You don’t look big to me so I didn’t think—”

 “It’s not like I inflate like a balloon after two weeks! God, I can’t believe I’m having a child with a man who can’t even stand to be near me. This couldn’t get any worse. We don’t have any insurance, no way to educate him properly, and you’re going to be out doing your ridiculous training the entire time.”

In another instant, I was swept off the couch and into Goku’s bone-crushing embrace, swung around in circles while he laughed excitedly. He held me around the waist to kiss me on the lips and very carefully set me back down on the pillows. I adjusted my gown irately while he began to pace again, running a hand through his hair and grinning ear-to-ear.

It would be another nine months before I saw that sort of overwhelming happiness on my husband’s face. More years would pass and he would meet our second son, which would bring him to tears. Goku learned very early on that he had to control himself or risk losing everything.

Goku sat beside me and leaned over to rest his head on my abdomen. “Gosh, I can’t believe it! We’re going to have our very own baby.” He curled up his legs on the small couch somehow and sighed. “Guess we can finally find a use for the prize money I got from the World Tournament. I didn’t want it but Roshi told me it would be good to put aside for something like this.”

 “Prize money?” I echoed.

 “Huh? Well, yeah. I beat Piccolo a few years ago, remember? It was right before we got married and he blew a hole through me.”

 “We… we have money? Where is it?”

He clasped his palm over my thigh, settling in for a nap. “Mmm, some place. I’ll go to the tournament center and ask about it. They said they’d keep it safe.”

My mind was racing to do the math and I nearly fainted. If I remembered correctly, the prize had been 500,000 zeni, which was more than enough to raise our child. We had nothing to worry about thanks to Goku’s odd talent for saving money. I smiled a bit to myself and began touching his hair.

 “You know, I think we even each other out,” I said. “I panic and worry about things but you bring me back down to Earth. I was so scared when the doctor told me. I didn’t want to have a child neither of us can take care of but all I had to do was come home and see how excited you were to know it would all be okay. Well, that and the zeni you have set aside.”

Goku turned slightly to smile up at me and I felt all my fear fade away. “I told you I’d take good care of you, Chi-Chi. Besides, there’s no shame in asking for help. I’m sure the Ox King would want to know, right? We can have the baby there so we don’t have to deal with doctors and stuff.” His smile melted into a pouty frown and he shuddered. “Besides, I _hate_ needles.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t the perfect, beautiful conception or experience I had dreamt of. I imagined planning it out a bit more and having a specific date set that we would remember for the rest of our lives. But Goku was an unpredictable person and life with him was far from ordinary. Thus began our greatest endeavor: the journey of parenthood.


	5. Chapter the Fifth

We blamed my first pregnancy being horrible on a running joke that Gohan was born for greatness—he would take up his father’s mantle as the protector of Earth so of course he was a strong baby. I would laugh and rub my growing belly while Goku insisted that our son would be the most powerful being in the universe, seeing it as nothing more than a silly way to get my mind off the unending pain.

Our first son was not nearly as calm as his brother was in the womb. Gohan thrashed early on, kicking at me until bruises began to form on my stomach in distinct foot patterns. Neither Goku nor I had any idea how on earth our baby was so outrageously powerful and aggressive but we chalked it up to genes inherited from his father, oblivious to Goku’s alien heritage. We would learn that it wasn’t uncommon for Saiyan children to abuse their mother’s a bit and that I had been lucky neither of my sons punctured and organ or shattered a rib.

During those times, Goku was gentle and selfless, actually voluntarily doing housework for me while I lounged on the couch and grimaced as our son pummeled my insides. We decided to have him at home to avoid dealing with hospitals because Goku detested them so much and I had spent months on end reading books on home delivery. It didn’t seem difficult. We needed some water and I just had to relax and let nature take its course; nothing more and nothing less.

That didn’t stop the full moon from destroying our fragile bliss.

Toward the end of my third trimester Gohan had become so heavy and unbearable that I couldn’t walk. I lay in bed for hours on end reading books or knitting between groans of agony, wondering why no other women felt the same pain I did. I’d gone through a violent phase of vomiting during the first few weeks that came and went as it pleased, perhaps my body rejecting the alien fetus.

My husband stayed far away when the moon rose. He mentioned that he was tempted to come back but forced himself to do other things, like train or punch trees instead. Sometimes I could hear him howling from miles away while I quietly soothed Gohan as he twisted furiously in my womb.

The door creaked open downstairs and my head snapped up in surprise. I hadn’t expected Goku to come home so soon and I worried something was wrong. I moved to swing my swollen ankles over the bed until I heard him laughing to himself and something shatter on the floor. My urge to see him vanished in an instant, leaving me sliding back into bed silently.

If the moon was vibrant enough it would severely pull on Goku’s personality, bringing out someone entirely different who I didn’t like to see. He became even more aggressive and actually swayed on his feet like he was drunk, stumbling blindly around the house breaking things and laughing.

Our bedroom door opened and my husband was leaning on the frame with a disarming smile on his face that cut through me like a cold blade. I steeled myself as always. I was accustomed to arguing with him and fighting for my freedom. The battle could go either way—if he was already tired from training he would give up and leave me alone but occasionally, things didn’t turn out quite that way.

It had been a long time since I had seen him in his strange, violent state. My heart pattered nervously but I didn’t let it show on my face. There was a baby in me that needed protection.

Goku’s training gi was torn in a lot of places and there was a sheen of sweat across his skin. He had a cut on his cheek that was bleeding but I knew it would heal on its own. It was another odd gift he had that neither of us could explain. We didn’t know what to make of his strange powers.

 “Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

I shrugged. My knitting needles were beside me, halfway entered into a complicated stitch. “Nothing, just making some things for the baby. Don’t you have someplace else to be?”

A grin spread across his face. “You’re gonna have the baby soon. I can’t leave you alone.” He shifted and his eyes flickered down to my moving belly. “Besides, I like how you look. Can you believe that _I_ put that baby in you? It’s neat and it makes you smell different.”

We hadn’t been evenly matched for a long time. I was staying home cooking supper while Goku was out training and the pregnancy made me even weaker than before. It was times like those when I longed to be in contact with our old friends. Bulma was smart. She could’ve figured out what was going on.

When he took a step toward me I stiffened and focused a cold glare on his indifferent black eyes. Getting hysterical only egged him on. It was my only solution to preserve myself and the baby—freeze over and reject Goku to keep his mood swings under control. If I gave in and played the part of the good wife I would become a rug for him to wipe his feet on instead of his equal.

Goku put his hands out innocently but his smirk betrayed his intentions. He continued walking toward me without hesitation. He hadn’t gotten his fill from the strenuous exercise. No one on Earth was his equal in brute strength at that point, even Piccolo. “Aw, c’mon, Chi. All I wanna do is watch you make your weird clothes and touch your belly a little.”

 “Later. I’m tired and I need to sleep. Papa is sending over nurses to help me with the delivery.” I idly picked up my knitting supplies and gestured to the door. “You can leave and come back when you’re ready to act like an adult, Goku. I have no interest in playing your silly little games.”

 “Games?” he echoed. Goku paused and puckered his lower lip. “What do you mean? I haven’t seen the baby all day or my wife so I want to come spend some, ah… quality time together.”

 “Get out,” I said coldly.

My husband laughed a bit and shook his head, promptly pulling off the ruined shirt and casting it to the floor. He untied the sash around his waist so his pants fell low to hang loosely off his hips and he wrapped it around his forearm. “You’re not being very nice to me.”

Our stares were even and unyielding under the pressure of one another’s eyes. I expected him to back down and walk away but Pandora’s box had been opened the day Goku and I were married. His tail contained most of his Saiyan instincts including the Oozaru. Without it and without any training to help him control himself, he was a loose cannon under the light of the moon.

Pregnancy had made me laboriously slow. My husband snapped forward in an instant and I hardly managed to snatch one of my knitting needles in time to stab it through his shoulder when he attempted to get on top of me. It didn’t affect him in the least. I watched him casually tear the sharp object from his flesh and throw it to the ground before grasping my face between his hands.

The doorbell pealed.

Blood was pouring freely from the open wound in Goku’s shoulder and his hands were trembling slightly which made me tremble in turn. We glared at each other for a few more seconds before the doorbell rang again and he was forced to get up, allowing me to let the midwives inside.  

We prepared for the labor and my husband left shortly thereafter. I was glad he wouldn’t be around to watch and that struck me as a very bad thing. I should’ve wanted him by my side while I was giving birth to our son. Instead, I wanted him as far away from the house as possible—I trusted the strange, smiling older women more than the man I had created the baby with.

That night, bathed in the full moon, I began six agonizing hours trying to bring Gohan into the world. It was as painful as I imagined and even the midwives seemed surprised by my screaming. I was inconsolable, aggressive; absolutely miserable lying in the bathtub while they tried to soothe me. But the labor itself was oddly short thanks to my son physically pushing himself from my body instead of relying upon me to do the work for him.

Neither of the midwives believed me when I told them I could feel him scrambling to escape into the water. They thought I was imagining things because of the incinerating pain and patted my head with cool towels, murmuring that everything would be alright.

My son wailed loudly when he finally came into the world, clenching his tiny fists and resisting the arms of the midwife as she prepared him for me. I could hardly breathe and the other midwife made no move to help me out of the water, probably assuming it would be easier to leave me to rest. Everything hurt but I was elated through the agony. I had done it. My baby was okay.

The elder midwife, who was tending to Gohan, cleared her throat. “Miss Son, your father warned us that the child might have been born with a… extra appendage. Is this normal for you?”

Gohan, who I wouldn’t name for several weeks, was placed in my arms. A brown tail hung limply over my forearm and he continued screaming for air while I stared in shock. I’d already known Goku had a tail when he was younger but I never imagined it would be passed on to any of our children. I’d thought I was seeing things and ignored the memories but now I was gazing at our son who had a very obvious tail sprouting from his backside.

I sighed. “Yes, it’s normal.”

The two midwives exchanged a look and moved to settle us into bed.

Gohan opened his black eyes and gurgled at me happily when I tickled his chin with my index finger. He seemed to be an average-sized baby but he easily grabbed the tip of my digit and squeezed until my blood stopped flowing. I smiled tightly and smoothed the mass of black hair already growing on his head. I told myself I was crazy. My baby was normal. There was nothing to worry about.

‘Normal’ has a much different meaning for my little family in the woods.


	6. Chapter the Sixth

 “Gohan, _no_!”

Across the room, my son’s tail was flicking impatiently behind him while he stretched to reach a book on the highest level of the shelf, struggling to pull himself up. He was only a year old and I could hardly contain his curiosity on my own. He was demure for his age but it only took one refusal for him to fly off the handle into a sobbing fit that made him to run to Goku for comfort. I became the bad guy early on.

I quickly hoisted Gohan away from the bookshelf, ignoring his frantic squirming in my grasp, and tucked him under my arm to get the book down myself. He slapped the book away and erupted into a screaming jag that made me consider dropping him on the floor. I was beginning to realize that my husband and child weren’t entirely human. Gohan was heavy; dense like moon rock. He could easily twist out of my grasp despite being so young.

But I noticed early on that it wasn’t in his blood to be a warrior. Soon his fits would ease into crying and he would hide behind my legs when something frightened him. I was the worse parent but I was also more frightening than Goku, which meant I was a better protector in my son’s eyes. He gained the fragility of a human and a thirst for knowledge that I wanted to feed from the beginning.

The stairs creaked as Goku curiously walked down, hanging off the banister to watch me holding Gohan at arm’s length like he was a ticking time bomb. I shrieked at my husband to help and fear flashed in his eyes before he hurried over to take the raging child away from me. He held Gohan firmly to his chest while I panted and pushed my hair out of my face. I stomped my foot furiously.

 “Son Goku, _you_ need to help me with our child!”

Sometimes I would blow up. The stress thrust on my shoulders was not a burden a woman of twenty needed to bear. I felt helpless when Gohan threw his fits, like I wasn’t supposed to be raising him in the first place. He seemed to hate me and doted upon his father. Maybe it was jealousy.

Discipline did not come easily to my husband and he struggled trying to contain Gohan. He didn’t want to be cast in a negative light. He was more than happy to play with him, feed him, or take baths with him but he absolutely would not help me render punishment. There I would stand, arms folded across my puffed chest as I ripped my husband to shreds in front of our sobbing son.

It would become a familiar position. I would don it almost every day trying to keep Goku from forcing Gohan into a future that didn’t suit his personality. I knew from the beginning that Gohan was a fighter but his human side was at odds with the violent Saiyan blood. He longed to learn. It was his damn father that repeatedly convinced him otherwise, hoping to pass the mantle to him one day.

Gohan would smile and become excited at the prospect of spending time with Goku but it never touched his eyes. It was an obligation. He loved to learn and read. I routinely caught him climbing the bookshelf to take down the different novels I had taken from home.

It was the only way he could bond with his father. Goku preferred pummeling aliens to discussing Voltaire or Plato over a cup of tea. He’d laugh and shake his head when I insisted that it was better for our son to stay home and learn rather than risk his life. There were other people to do that.

Goku held our son close as his crying turned to hiccups. “But the full moon is coming tonight so I was gonna leave before anything happens! Please don’t be mad at me. I’m trying to do what’s best—”

 “What’s best for Gohan is having a father who doesn’t have to leave every month,” I snapped. “Give him back to me. Clearly you’re an incapable parent so I’ll have to raise him by myself while you go play with dinosaurs or catch fish on the mountain.” I stepped forward to snatch Gohan back, glowering up at my mildly terrified husband. “It’s like having two small children at home!”

 “But you know I have to leave. I’ve left every month for the whole two years we’ve been married.” Goku rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably and his shoulders drooped. “I don’t wanna go but I can’t stay and risk hurting you or Gohan.”

 “Then why do you disappear in broad daylight? I’ve never begrudged you for your ridiculous drama every month but there’s no reason for you to leave your son and me alone for the entire day. What if something happens while you’re gone? I haven’t trained in ages so I can’t protect us.”

I was grasping at straws to keep the one-sided argument going. It made me feel better venting my frustrations onto Goku because he was too afraid to yell back. He’d been raised better than that, much to my relief. If he was as stubborn and aggressive as me our marriage would’ve collapsed long before Goten was born, after the first time he died and left me alone to raise a small boy.

Tonight was different. Goku was under pressure to protect his family from himself so he rushed past me holding Gohan out into the sunset, leaping on the Nimbus before I could demand he come back. I watched furiously from the door as my husband vanished over the horizon and kicked it shut so fiercely that my son flew into hysterics again.

It took me a long time to get him to sleep in his crib. I held the bars and watched with tears in my eyes as my firstborn son slept peacefully under orange blankets, clutching the Four Star Dragon Ball to his side. He looked more like me than Goku. Papa wanted us to name him after our family but I wanted to do something special for my husband, so I agreed to name him after his late grandfather.

I reached down to stroke Gohan’s hair and he nuzzled into my palm with a contented sigh. From the beginning I wanted nothing more than to do what was best for him. An education would mean he could fit in with the others and have whatever kind of life he wanted. If he grew up to be a brute like his father that would mean a lot of doors slamming in his face. Goku and I only survived off the prize money from the last tournament he had entered years ago, where he almost died.

The house felt a bit stuffy so I decided to go outside and sit on the porch to have a breath of fresh air before bed. I wearily made my way down the stairs and out the rickety front door to slump down on the concrete steps, drooping forward like a wilting flower. Raising a baby wasn’t easy.

Crickets sang their tunes to one another and moths flocked to the porch light, disoriented by the artificial sun. Their wings softly fluttered and I found myself being lulled to a deep sleep I hadn’t experienced in months, thanks to the two children I had to raise. I closed my eyes to listen to the calm stillness of the summer night and wondered what our old friends were up to.

 “It’s starting to get worse.”

I quickly looked up to see Goku standing a few feet away, gazing up at the moon with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Annoyed, I returned to my position and shrugged.

 “That figures. Not like I was expecting you to feel better.”

 “No,” he said quietly, “there’s something else. I can feel… something.” He shifted on his feet and narrowed his eyes. I’d never seen him look so determined. “The moon is really pulling me now like it wants me to go find whoever it is but I have a bad feeling that I don’t want to.”

 “Quit being so paranoid. Don’t you have trees to punch? A son to ignore?”

My husband turned his cold eyes to me. “Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”

I swelled up indignantly and leapt to my feet to throw a rock at him that he easily deflected. “Who do you think you are, Goku?! You can’t come over here and tell _me_ what to do! I spent all day taking care of your son and this is the thanks I get? All I wanted was ten minutes to myself outside but of course you’re already here, talking nonsense as always and ruining what little time I have away from Gohan!”

The vitriol spewing from my mouth tasted as bad as it sounded. I shrank back and covered my mouth, horrified that I had finally admitted I wanted to be away from my own son. It felt wrong. I was being a bad mother. Did I not want my son anymore? Was I unfit to raise him?

Suddenly, Goku went rigid and directed his eyes to the moon, and I imagined his tail quivering at the sight of it. It had been gone for a long time but his instincts still lay dormant, routinely awakened by whatever mysterious power the celestial body held over the Saiyans. He growled lowly and twisted his neck until it cracked while I struggled to hold back tears. Just when things started to look better they got fifty times worse. I hated myself for marrying so young.

The echoes of Gohan’s sobbing presently came through the windows. I slumped against the door and hid my face, starting to cry myself, before being violently shoved aside. My toes teetered near the edge of the porch and I hardly noticed Goku slip inside the house with a dangerous look on his face.

Terrified, I wiped my tears away and hurried inside after him, running up the stairs faster than I had in years, and skidded to a halt outside Gohan’s room. It was still dark and I was expecting to see blood, or a dead baby on the floor. Goku had a hard time controlling himself when the moon was blurring his personality and something irritated him. He was normally very patient and…

I wanted what was best for Gohan but he would forever be his father’s child. They were connected by something I would never understand, pulled together perhaps by their heritage.

My husband was glaring at me, gently supporting the back of Gohan’s head while his crying turned to small whimpers. One flinch could’ve easily crushed his developing skull. I remained very still by the door while I tried to decide if I needed to intervene, but the expression on Goku’s face wasn’t aggressive toward anyone but me. He kissed the side of Gohan’s head and jerked his head toward me.

 “Go,” he said. “I can’t leave my son with you.”

 “What are you talking about? Son Goku, you better not—”

Goku took a sudden step toward me and bared his teeth. “If you’re going to become a mess every time he cries instead of checking on him and admit to deliberately avoiding his pleas for help, I can’t let you watch him on your own. I’ll have to curb myself and take out my aggression later.” He turned away from me toward the window, tall and imposing in the near-darkness. “Get out.”

From over his shoulder, I could see Gohan’s eyes half-open, puffy from the force of his wailing. My heart twisted in knots at the sight. Was I a bad mother? Was I afraid to devote myself to Gohan because I resented his father? I leaned back on my heel and realized Goku had finally won an argument.

I shrank back into the dim hallway. “…I’m sorry.”

 “You haven’t done anything to me. Gohan suffers from your negligence. Now go.” Goku turned slightly to grin at me and I my legs felt weak. “I’ll come for you in a little while.”

And he did. All the while I lay underneath him, I wondered if I was a bad mother.


	7. Chapter the Seventh

The tranquility of our first years together was shattered on one balmy spring afternoon.

It was meant to be a simple visit to Kame Island so Gohan could meet Goku and I’s old friends, who we hadn’t seen in years. I was hesitant, naturally, but my husband convinced me that everything would be okay. He grinned while I adjusted Gohan’s jacket and made sure the hat with the Dragon Ball was secure so it wouldn’t fall off while they were flying on the Nimbus. I’d carefully raised him and protected him from the outside world, much to Goku’s chagrin.

Gohan nervously wrung his fingers. “Mommy, what are these people like? What should I say to them?” He grabbed my arm and pulled me closer, tears brimming in his eyes. His tail was wavering with fear. “Please say you’ll come with us, mommy. I don’t want to go without you.”

Four long years had passed since Gohan was born. I had devoted all of my time to keeping up the house and homeschooling our son while Goku played outside like a small child. It seemed like having a child had driven the evil from Goku like an exorcism, leaving behind the painfully innocent man I had married at eighteen. I bloomed into my motherly duties and learned to control Gohan’s violent temper until he finally calmed down, embracing the human side and growing to enjoy his studies.

No matter how many times Goku asked I vehemently refused to let him train Gohan. I would shriek and get in his face and throw things to seem more imposing and my husband would back away in fear. It was the best way to deal with him. There was no reasoning with Goku: only violent emotion worked.

Goku put a hand on the back of Gohan’s head and our son looked up at him in awe. Gohan loved to learn but he loved his father’s approval even more. He would devote his life to unlocking whatever potential was inside him simply because Goku wished for him to do it. If I had my way, the world would’ve been destroyed and Gohan would have stayed home with me to do what he wanted.

 “They’re all great,” Goku said. “Bulma can show you some of her cool science stuff, Krillin has been my best friend since I was around your age, and Master Roshi is always good for a laugh. Right, Chi-Chi?”

I shrugged coldly, smoothing down Gohan’s jacket. “Whatever, just make sure he’s home in time for dinner. No detours to play with dinosaurs and absolutely _no_ fighting. I’ll make sure to call Bulma later on and get the report so don’t think you can hide it from me, Son Goku.”

My husband grinned sheepishly. “I wouldn’t dream of hiding anything from you, Chi.”

It was the day Goku died for the first time.

Of course, I didn’t know that, so I rolled my eyes at him and scooped up Gohan to kiss him on the forehead. He threw his arms around my neck to say goodbye and I unwillingly passed him to Goku, watching from the door as the two of them hopped on the Nimbus. Goku settled Gohan securely in his lap, waved to me and winked. I embedded the face in my memory.

The afternoon progressed like any other. I walked around the house, dusting and organizing and cleaning to make sure things looked neat when the two returned. Around three I started dinner and had everything ready by six, which was when I expected Goku back. I sat in my chair and stared at the door as the sun slowly set in the sky. My thoughts wandered in irritation. Goku probably ignored me and stopped to do something with Gohan on the way back. Well, it wasn’t my fault their food would be cold.

A knock on the door signaled the beginning of the end, but I was relieved to hear it. I hopped out of my chair and hurried to answer it, expecting to see Goku with a flower trying to apologize, and I readied myself to scream at him for being late. Instead, I was staring out at the dark forest surrounding our little home. Confused, I looked around until my eyes traveled downwards.

It was Krillin. He was holding a hat in his hand and wearing a black suit. He smiled at me weakly. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time and I hardly knew him, save for when we saw one another during the wedding. I cocked my head curiously but didn’t invite him inside. He was one of Goku’s friends so he probably wanted free food or something else ridiculous. I squinted over his head into the shadows.

 “Is Goku coming along?” I asked. “I made supper and I’ve been waiting for him and Gohan to come home. Hopefully everything went well today?”

 “Uh… well, that’s what I need to talk to you about.”

The wind whistled through the trees, lifting several dying leaves into the air so they swirled gracefully to the ground. I raised an eyebrow at Krillin. Of course he was protecting Goku. They all did. They probably talked about how terrible I was in front of Gohan and he never wanted to see me again. Meanwhile, I slaved away to keep a clean house and educate my child all alone while my husband—

Krillin suddenly bowed his head. “Chi-Chi… we were attacked on Kame Island.”

Anything that could be tied to fighting always introduced me to heart-stopping fear. I paused to listen to Krillin, hoping he wasn’t preparing to tell me something terrible.

 “Um…” Krillin spun his hat around and swallowed hard. “Goku had a brother named Raditz who told us that they’re both called Saiyans and they’re from another planet. Raditz wanted Goku to kill 100 people and when he refused, Raditz kidnapped Gohan and held him hostage. Goku went after him and… he and Piccolo managed to kill Raditz but…”

There’s a marked fragility in our perceptions of people.

Furious and terrified, I snatched Krillin by the collar of his shirt and lifted him into the air to see his eyes were brimming with tears. The night felt blacker than normal. It was strangling me; choking the life from my lungs as I violently shook Krillin and screamed at him to bring Goku home. He gritted his teeth and looked toward the ground without resisting, probably afraid to speak the final words.

I threw Krillin off the porch and pushed my bangs away from my eyes, laughing. “Oh, come on, I know Goku is around here somewhere. Where’s he hiding? He needs to come home for dinner or he won’t be able to move a muscle. My husband is no alien, just a big brute.”

 “Raditz had a tail, too,” Krillin said, sitting up. “Just like Goku and Gohan. Chi-Chi, I’m so sorry, but it was the only way to kill Raditz and protect Gohan.”

 “Goku _can’t_ be gone,” I said as tears streamed down my face. I wiped my eyes furiously and scanned the treeline, trying to detect any sign of my husband. “Goku! Goku ,where are you?” I tottered forward toward the darkness and struggled to hold back sobs. “Please, I won’t yell; I made dinner for you and Gohan. Goku, come out here this instant and tell Krillin he’s crazy!”

_The night after our honeymoon, when we were sitting together on the porch. I was frightened of Goku but he held me and promised he would protect me. We watched the leaves fall from the trees as autumn spread across Mt. Paozu. I wondered if I had made a mistake marrying the most powerful man in the world. He had become a target because of his strength. It deterred no one._

All I wanted was to see him smile again.

Krillin was behind me. “Chi-Chi! He’s only going to be gone for a year! We’re going to bring him back with the Dragon Balls and by then, Gohan will be back from training with Piccolo.”

Grief-stricken to the point of insanity, I whirled around and stalked back toward Krillin. He backed away quickly and put his hands in front of his face. There was a resounding _smack_ when I slapped him hard across the head, outraged that he had let my son slip through his fingers after Goku’s sacrifice. My baby was gone. My husband and my baby were both gone.

 “Gohan is with Piccolo?” I hissed.

 “Well, yeah but… it’s not as bad as you think.” Krillin had a huge welt on his head but he was more concerned with calming me down. “He’s going to train him to be a better fighter so he can help us defeat the Saiyans when Goku comes back. You can see both of them in a year. We all have to be patient and do what’s best for Earth right now.”

 “I’m not giving both of them up. I need Gohan. Bring him back to me.”

 “We just have to trust Piccolo,” Krillin pleaded.

 “Piccolo blew a hole through Goku’s chest! He almost killed him before we were even married!” I straightened up and looked around like I would be able to see them. If only I could find out the general place they were hiding. Gohan needed to come home and study instead of being with a lunatic.

But there was no bringing them back.

Krillin brought me inside and I sobbed for weeks on end, hardly eating a thing. Bulma would visit and try to inspire me to do things with her but I couldn’t get out of bed most days. I would sit and stare at the wall in a catatonic state, waiting for my husband and son to come home to me. The life I had built had collapsed around me in a cloud of smoke and I couldn’t see the light no matter how hard I tried.

Little did I know, that year apart from Goku would become nothing when he died for the second time and refused to come back. My husband had chosen to die, but he had full intentions on returning to me. The grief compounded with rejection during his second death would drive me to madness that was only broken by Gohan’s gentle presence, pulling me from the darkness when I was ready to give in.

The endless void of loneliness stretched out before me as I slumped over in bed, unable to cry any more. I was weak. Back when I had married Goku, I would’ve been heartbroken for sure, but I would have pulled myself together and carried on without him. Now I was chained to my duties as a mother and a wife and without my son or husband I had no will to carry on. The year was painfully long. I wondered over and over if Goku thought of me in the afterlife.

Meanwhile, my son was training with the very creature who had nearly killed his father. It was unbearable to think about so I tried my hardest not to. I wanted Gohan home. I wanted to teach him about math and poetry and bring him outside to see nature in a peaceful way. Instead, he was learning to blow up mountains without knowing what he was doing. He was becoming a tool of destruction.

Papa would visit with some of the soup my mother used to make when I was sick. We would talk sometimes about how losing a spouse was very difficult and papa would tell me he never wanted to see me go through what he did. He would cry a bit but I remained stoic.

One day, papa came into the bedroom with a smile on his face. I was staring out the window at the trees, remembering how I had watched them the day Krillin told me my family was gone. The bed shifted but I didn’t turn my attention to papa. He was just trying to make me feel better.

 “Chi-Chi, both of them are home.”

I turned my head slowly to face papa.  “H-home? Goku? And Gohan?”

Papa smiled wider, but it was restrained. “Yes. The Saiyans are gone. If you want, we can go see both of them in the hospital.”

My voice came back to me so violently that it made my throat bleed.

 “IN THE HOSPITAL?!” I shrieked.


	8. Chapter the Eighth

The nurses demanded I stop but I kept running. They needed me. My baby was home and my husband was severely injured. I had been hiding in my home for the past year waiting to see both of them and now they were both hurt. Gohan—my six year old who had the heart of an angel and the mind of a great scholar—had gotten tied up in his father’s idiotic plans and landed himself in the hospital. Oh, when I saw Goku, I was going to wring his neck until blood spurted out of his nose.

Papa followed close behind me and apologized as I shoved carts aside and ran toward the emergency ward. I was a simple human so I couldn’t sense energy levels but I had the instinct of a slightly overbearing mother and I knew I would find Gohan before long. I pushed onward, skirting around people shuffling with their IVs and yelling at papa to keep up. My blood was pumping.

Soon I could hear the sound of Bulma’s voice as she chattered with someone and I burst into the next room, panting and glancing about wildly. They were all there: Roshi, Bulma, Krillin, and the weird creature named Mr. Popo. The bed in the room was obscured by a curtain but my eyes fell upon Gohan sitting in a chair, with long hair and a big smile on his face. He was talking with the others until he noticed me and his expression suddenly turned to terror.

It hurt. I expected him to be happy to see me; to run up and give me a hug. Instead he looked like he wanted to crawl out of the room and hide under a rock. He was a bit dirty and needed a haircut badly but otherwise seemed to be in one piece. I clenched my hands into fists and ran over to scoop him off the chair into my arms, swinging him around with wild abandon.

That was also the beginning of everyone rolling their eyes when I reacted strongly to seeing Gohan or Goku, or when I begged them not to fight. I was supposed to quietly watch them leave to be pummeled merciless by aliens while I twiddled my thumbs at home. None of them had families for quite some time. I was alone in motherhood until Bulma had Trunks years later, when Gohan was already over a decade old. By then I was accustomed to my unique form of loneliness.

Krillin spoke first. “Uh, Chi-Chi, Goku’s pretty banged up from the fight. He managed to drive off Vegeta and Nappa’s gone so maybe you could—”

 “Maybe Goku shouldn’t have dragged my baby into this mess,” I snapped, running my hands through Gohan’s tangled hair. “Look at him, he’s a mess! When I find that Piccolo I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. Are you okay, sweetheart? Please tell me you don’t have brain damage like your father.”

Bulma sighed loudly and stepped in front of me with her hands on her hips. “Excuse us, but Goku could use some attention, too! He just saved Earth and you’re too concerned with fixing Gohan’s _hair_!”

My son was my anchor in the stormy seas. When I was at my darkest points I would think of his smiling face or worse yet, imagine how he would feel if I left. Protecting every hair on Gohan’s head was a precious pastime to me and I began to turn a cold shoulder to my husband. Bulma didn’t understand. She was older than me, unmarried, and had no children. She was a floozy.

 “Mind your own business,” I said icily.

A familiar laugh filled me with a myriad of emotions. “C’mon, Chi, Gohan’s been through a lot.”

_Good to see you alive, Goku. The unannounced year of being a widow was very easy on me. I thoroughly enjoyed sobbing until I couldn’t breathe and crying dry tears. I loved going into my child’s empty room and organizing all his toys in a neat pattern every morning. But my favorite part had to be clawing through our closet, pulling all your ridiculous orange shirts out and throwing them on the bed so I could curl up with them at night and imagine you were there beside me._

Slowly, I turned to face my husband, wrapped from head to toe in white bandages and wearing the horrible, flippant grin he could never get rid of. My grasp on Gohan tightened until he yelped in pain and I released him to fold my arms, fixating and acidic glare on Goku. He cocked his head, cringing from the effort and confusion flitted across his black eyes.

Sometimes I hated those black eyes. It reminded me of our honeymoon, when they were sadistic and frigid like invisible ice on onyx pavement. He was an impenetrable, mysterious glacier with a carefully constructed façade as a family man with a good heart. Goku was nice enough but I knew that wasn’t going to cut it. I had seen the evil raging in his soul many times. I had felt it with my body. It was etched in every bruise; spoken with every broken sob; chilling my insides to the core.

So Goku had saved the Earth. Everyone loved him. He was a damn _hero_. I was the obedient little wife clapping her hands from the sidelines and bearing the brunt of raising our child. Overbearing, aggressive Chi-Chi, who did nothing but sit at home and complain about her glorious husband’s glorious deeds.

The destruction of different evil aliens impressed me and I was happy to be alive. But the most amazing thing Goku could have ever done for me that would have put it all to shame? It was probably having him home on time for dinner. Maybe sitting outside together to enjoy the cool breezes on Mt. Paozu. If only he had set aside his obsession with fighting for just one precious day.

The door opened and a doctor entered with two nurses. Everyone was still staring expectantly at me as they surrounded Goku’s bed, like I was supposed to throw myself at him and rejoice our reunion. I watched indifferently as the doctor removed a hypodermic needle from his pocket, immediately sending Goku into a terrified frenzy. He strained against the bars holding him down and his eyes bugged out.

 “Chi-Chi, please don’t let them stab me,” he pleaded. “I hate needles! Please, Chi-Chi.” He twisted his neck desperately back and forth, struggling to escape. “Chi-Chi, please help me!”

It was too late. My heart was solid granite.

I patted Goku’s bound leg and smiled venomously. “You were a year late for dinner.”

They all watched me leave. I promised myself I wouldn’t go back.

But I had to, just to make sure Gohan was doing okay. He had been injured but not nearly as severely as his father. I returned the next day to see both of them and found the same crowd was still in their room, talking animatedly. Annoyed, I made my way over to kiss Gohan’s head and tuned out most of the incessant babbling about going to another planet. All I cared about was getting Gohan home for his piano lessons and study sessions. Nothing else seemed very important.

 “It’s just gonna be Krillin and me,” Bulma said, rolling her eyes. “Goku isn’t well enough to go through space and it should probably be a small mission.”

They wanted to get another set of Dragon Balls from Namek to revive everyone who died. It was noble and they all deserved to come back. It wasn’t fair that they died so young. I sat contently in my chair with my knitting needles, making a small sweater for Gohan. He’d need some new clothes after—

 “I’m going with you.”

Every pair of eyes turned to Gohan, including mine. He was sitting rigidly in his chair, trembling a bit from fear. It wasn’t like him to speak up all of a sudden. I quickly set my needles down and placed a hand on his arm, trying to steady him. He wasn’t thinking right. It was all Piccolo’s doing and probably part of his father’s as well. Gohan certainly couldn’t leave me again.

All I did was laugh and shake my head. “You can’t be serious. You’re not leaving for two more months. You have quite a bit of schoolwork and piano lessons to catch up on, Gohan. Let everyone else handle this and you can stay home with me.”

My six year old frowned. “No. I’m going with them.”

 “You are not going _anywhere_!” I shrieked, leaping to my feet. The fear of losing him again was threatening to make my heart explode. I couldn’t bear the thought. “You are going to stay right here on Earth and do what I tell you because I am your mother, Gohan! Where are your manners?! You do not refuse when I tell you—”

 “SHUT UP!” Gohan shouted.

The room fell silent in the wake of Gohan’s outburst.

Words failed me. Something I imagined to be similar to being stabbed caused me tremendous pain in my stomach and I went stiff, staring in horror at my son. He’d screamed at me. My own child, who I hadn’t seen in a year, had actually screamed at me in front of all of our friends.

My honeymoon flashed through my thoughts. I remembered Goku telling me my shouting triggered his violent episodes. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he screamed back at me whenever I struggled against him. And as I looked at my son, crouched over with a determined look on his face, he was a painful reminder of my first excruciating year of marriage.

Gohan continued talking to justify what he had done but I couldn’t hear anything. Papa was behind me and he held my shoulders as I began to droop, wilting like a nutrient-starved flower. It was no use. My husband was a monster and his son inherited the same tendencies. All my hard work to make Gohan something more had been in vain because he would always seek Goku’s approval before mine.

There was no way to explain how empty I felt at that point. It was like I had wasted the past six years of my life pouring my heart and soul into my marriage and my child only to have it blow up in my face. My own son had told me to shut up and his father had nothing to say about it. I couldn’t even look at Goku. If I saw the satisfied smirk on his face I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist hitting him.

They talked and talked. Papa pushed me down in a chair and told me to watch Goku. Gohan left with the others to get ready and I absently picked up my knitting needles. I was stuck in an endless cycle of loss. Goku had taken everything from me and now he was taking my child away for good.

Hours passed before Goku shifted and looked toward me. My fingers twisted and turned as I knit the sweater, hardly focused on what I was doing. Gohan was leaving me again. I was going to be all alone in the house making his bed and praying for him to come home safe. What if something happened? Bulma and Krillin weren’t the best bodyguards. Oh no. If anything—

 “Is that for me?”

My temper flared at the sound of Goku’s voice. I held up the sweater, seething. “Does this look like it can fit you, Goku?!”

Curious black eyes brightened. “Well, I dunno. Just figured I’d ask.”

For a moment, I considered stabbing him with my knitting needle. I tightened my grasp on it and muttered under my breath as I resumed my work. What a fool, always asking stupid questions.

I didn’t stop to consider that maybe Goku had been trying to draw me out of my stupor in the only way he knew. It wasn’t easy for my husband to grapple with emotion. Maybe it wasn’t easy for him to know I was about to lose my family again.


	9. Chapter the Ninth

 “I’ve gotta get out of this bed. Tell the doctors I feel fine.”

Weeks had passed since my little boy left for a foreign planet and I was still on the bedside vigil, furiously knitting to keep my mind off my vanishing family. Goku healed remarkably fast and was out of his full body cast soon but was still on bed rest, unable to join the dangerous planetary scuffle. I secretly hoped he would be bedridden until after Gohan came home so I didn’t have to watch both of them leave. The thought of it made my needle slip from its stitch.

I pushed Goku back down and he frowned like a miserable child. “No, you’re staying right here until they say you can leave. Maybe if you’d stop picking fights things like this wouldn’t happen.”

 “I didn’t pick any fights!” Goku said defensively. “I swear, Raditz took Gohan and I had to go save him. The only way we could beat him was if I sacrificed myself, and I knew I had to stay dead to train. I’m really sorry I didn’t give you more warning and I wasn’t exactly expecting Piccolo to keep Gohan—”

 “Go to sleep,” I snapped.

 “I can’t, Chi-Chi.” He sat up, shaking his head sadly. “I can’t leave them alone. It’s my responsibility to help and Gohan can’t protect Bulma or Krillin if they run into trouble. I’m sorry.”

 “Will you sit down? I’ll bring the doctor and he’ll give you a needle again.”

Of course he couldn’t stay still. He could never do what I asked. He tried to stand up and I threw down my needles to shove him back in bed but he wasn’t having it. Goku grabbed my wrists to drag me very close to his face so our noses were touching, bringing us painfully close together. I stared into his black irises, bringing back all the nights I imagined I was seeing them again. He had hurt me beyond repair.

Goku closed his eyes, clenching his jaw tightly. “I have to protect them.”

My husband hadn’t been involved in any of the three enormous conflicts that would come in later years: his largest tussle up to that point involved Piccolo. Tears brimmed in my eyes as I recalled watching him coughing up blood, bent over and holding the huge hole in his chest that should’ve killed him. Any normal man would’ve dropped dead instantly but my Goku didn’t. We thought he was a fighter.

Every time, I would recite the same words, and every time, Goku would look away from me before leaving anyway. I didn’t want him to save the world. I became painfully accustomed to watching his back as he left to rescue Earth from whatever mess it had gotten into. It wasn’t fair to either of us.

Weak with exhaustion and emotionally crippled from my year apart from my husband and son, I could only sink forward into Goku’s arms. He held my uncomfortably like he was concerned someone would see us and he patted my back like I was an old friend when I started crying. Why did he have a damn hero streak? Why was he the only one who could protect everyone?

 “Please don’t go,” I sobbed, burying my face into his bandaged shoulder.

There was only silence. I cried harder.

Tapping on the window roused us a while later and Goku set me on the cot while I tried to wipe the tears from my eyes and get a hold of myself. The visitor spoke quietly to Goku and he came back a few moments after with a stoic expression that I had come to fear. He opened his palm to show me a bright green bean and my lower lip began to quiver, a threat of more uncontrollable crying. That was it. I was going to lose him all over again.

Both of his hands settled on my shoulders as I cried into my palms and I shook him off to embrace my misery instead of trying to run from it. I would cave like I had before. What if neither of them came back? Gohan meant everything to me and Goku… I _wanted_ him to mean everything to me.

Clothes shuffled around and my husband knelt down in front of me, now fully dressed in his training uniform. “I’ll keep Gohan safe.”

 “Promise you’ll both come home to me,” I said.

Silence.

Furious, I snatched the collar of Goku’s hospital gown and dragged his face close to mine. “Promise, dammit!” I shrieked. “I want both of you home!”

His black eyes closed. He quietly detached my fingers and rose, tall and imposing and serious. There was a mission to accomplish and that was all that mattered. He avoided looking at me when he turned to face the window and I covered my mouth to hide back my sobbing. His fists clenched. The symbol emblazoned on his back was the only promise he kept.

So I watched in silence as Goku opened the window further and stepped onto the ledge. He didn’t look back at me to say goodbye. He never did anything like that. I was so drained that my tears dried and I slouched over like a wilting flower. He wouldn’t promise me.

The Nimbus appeared and Goku leapt from the ledge, vanishing from my life for the next years. We had only spent three weeks together in the hospital, most of which involved him sleeping. He would be awake sometimes and try to talk to me but I was too angry to entertain him. It was another instance I wished I had swallowed my wounded pride and spent what little time we had together.

Gohan was gone for a few months on Namek. It was a long, dangerous journey, and he relayed what had happened when he finally returned. I hugged him for fifteen minutes straight without letting go. I didn’t even ask if his father was okay because I already knew the answer. Goku would never make a promise he couldn’t keep. All I had left was the six year old boy we had created together.

Shenron was summoned and we attempted to bring Goku back only to have him staunchly refuse. My excitement towards him still being alive was subdued already and I was glad I hadn’t let myself hope too much. Of course he wouldn’t return. He was floating in space, staying away from his waiting family for another year. I angrily left with Gohan. Piccolo began watching over us in Goku’s absence.

Thankfully the quiet year meant Gohan could return to his studies, which he did without any hesitation. I had an easier time getting through the day with my son to keep me company and soon we began inviting Piccolo inside to have supper with us. It wasn’t as bleak. I hid Goku’s clothes in the basement and acted like he never existed. My life centered around Gohan and keeping up my home.

We were eating breakfast when the next threat arrived.

I sipped my coffee, reading the paper while Gohan read over his math homework and ate cereal. Piccolo was sitting in his own chair with his arms folded and eyes closed. He rarely ate. I forced him to help out around the house for a meal but he didn’t seem to need it very much. The clock ticked by overhead and I lazily contemplated what I needed to do during the afternoon. Laundry, gardening, dinner…

Gohan and Piccolo both stood at the same moment and I nearly threw my coffee in fear, looking about wildly for a threat. It had been a long time since I last trained so my fighting skills were getting rusty. The two of them exchanged a glance and Gohan looked at me apologetically.

 “Something’s coming,” he said.

I allowed myself a fleeting moment of excitement. “Is it your father?”

 “No,” Piccolo said, “it definitely isn’t Goku. Not yet.”

 “Well it’ll just have to wait until he gets back.” I rose, collecting the dishes and emptying the leftovers in the trash. “You have studies to attend to so Piccolo can go by himself. I won’t have you running off again now that your father is bringing… is… Gohan? Are you even listening to me?!”

They were both gone when I turned. I furiously knocked several dishes off the counter and they shattered in a gratifying chorus of broken porcelain.

The rest of the afternoon I sat at the kitchen table drumming my fingers angrily. How dare Gohan run out when I explicitly told him not to? I hoped the time apart from Goku would improve his attitude but he only seemed to be getting worse. I stewed in my resentment, waiting for him to come home so I could give him a piece of my mind. He was seven now; old enough to know right from wrong.

It was dusk when I heard the front door open. I had been reciting what I was going to say for most of the day and my heart pounded with rage as I got to my feet and stomped over to confront Gohan. Piccolo knew better than to come inside after Gohan disobeyed me so he was probably hiding in a tree, waiting to come inside after I was done lecturing. I turned around the corner of the kitchen and…

They were both laughing. Goku had his hand on Gohan’s head and was ruffling his hair. Their clothes were clean, which meant neither had fought. I stood very still and waited for Goku to notice me, which took an inordinate amount of time. He rubbed the back of his head and smiled weakly.

 “Hey,” he said. “I’m back.”

The tears came before I could stop them. I was supposed to scream and make him apologize for leaving me again but all I wanted was to feel his arms around me. I dashed forward to hug Goku tightly around the neck and he held me, spinning me a few times before setting me down on my feet. Gohan kept laughing because he didn’t understand how it felt yet. He would never feel the kind of agony that came with losing a spouse.

We all sat down and had dinner together and I listened to Goku and Gohan discuss the strange person they had met in the wastelands. I should’ve been angry. I had every right to kick and scream and demand an apology from Goku. But I was beginning to realize that time was precious. And for the next three years, we were all together almost constantly. Gohan would do his homework and train with his father in the evening to prepare for the next looming invasion.

 “And Bulma is still living with Vegeta?” Goku asked, glancing to Gohan instead of me.

 “She sure is. He’s an even bigger jerk than before but at least he doesn’t attack us anymore. I guess he knows he’s gonna be trapped on Earth for a long time.”

There was an agitated flicker in Goku’s eyes. He paused in eating his noodles; a rare sight. “Can’t he live somewhere else now? I don’t like the thought of them being in the same house.”

 “Oh, Goku, you know how these things are,” I said flippantly. “They’re frighteningly alike. If you want my opinion, I suspect they’ll be married with a child sometime in the next few years.” I grinned, finding my prediction a little entertaining. Bulma, married. Ha!

My husband looked down at his plate with a hard expression. “Yeah, guess they will be.”

The joy in my heart made it hard to see anything else. We had put the cure for the heart virus away in a safe place and I knew I was guaranteed three more years of togetherness. I smiled brightly at Goku, expecting a similar response, but he could hardly manage it. I knew it was upsetting having Bulma living with a crazy alien but there wasn’t anything we could do. Besides, the two of them were opposite sides of the same coin. It was a bit frightening.

Gohan elected to clean up after dinner and I allowed him to meditate with Piccolo instead of training in celebration of his father’s return. Goku wanted to go with them but I insisted he stay inside with me. It had been two years since we spent any sort of time together.

I crawled into bed beside my husband and curled beside him, happy to feel his warmth again. He stared at the wall like he was confused and rubbed the back of his head. Three whole years. If they were careful, we’d have many more together after that. There would be no end.

 “Did Gohan tell you what I am?” Goku asked suddenly.

 “No. Does it have to do with that Vegeta character? I don’t like him at all.” I smiled, curling closer to Goku. “But I guess that means he’s perfect for Bulma.”

 “I’m like him. I’m a Saiyan. Raditz told me when he took Gohan but I didn’t believe him until I saw Vegeta and Nappa. When we were fighting…” Goku shifted, recalling a bad memory. “It was what landed me in the hospital. But he turned into a giant ape called an Oozaru and he told me that’s what the full moon does to us. It’s a reaction in our tails but I don’t have mine so… so I don’t transform outside but it still kind of happens within.”

 “I was wondering why you took Gohan’s tail off,” I said.

Goku was silent for a while and I figured he just wanted to sleep. But he spoke again, slowly. “Gohan is half-Saiyan so it’s easier for him to control himself. But Vegeta said I need to keep myself occupied or it will all build up and I could hurt people. I need to train harder than before.”

That was a gentle way of telling me he wouldn’t be around much. I closed my eyes and nuzzled closer to Goku and he put his arm around my shoulders. His fingers traced my skin curiously. We hadn’t been in bed together in two years. I’d only watched over him in the hospital.

 “I understand,” I said.

We made love that night, the first of many times over the next few years. But my second pregnancy wouldn’t come until after Goku left us for what he promised was forever. I lay beside him afterwards and touched his jaw with my fingertips, trying not to wake him. Tears blurred my vision.

I had lied. I didn’t understand him at all.


	10. Chapter the Tenth

Sheets shifted softly. Silence was of the utmost importance.

Beside my head, one of Goku’s hands gripped the edge of the mattress instead of holding onto me. It was dangerous for his hands to wander when he wasn’t entirely focused. The other was fisting the sheets, pulling so hard I could hear the fabric tearing apart at the seams. Our bed creaked ever so slightly from his laboriously slow movements and I shifted beneath him to maneuver myself to a quieter position. His face was buried in my neck, hot breath spilling across my skin.

It was painfully quiet outside. The dawn of our quiet three years of peace was beginning in a few short hours and Goku would be leaving me along with Gohan. I closed my eyes, running my fingers along his sweaty back, over the strained muscles near his waist. His groan rippled into a growl and he pushed into me harder than before until the bed started slamming into the wall.

My spine arched, pressing us closer together. I had my legs wrapped firmly around his hips to keep him contained but his mind was on other things, making it more difficult to keep quiet. Of course, I knew part of it had to do with the bright moonlight shining through our bedroom window.

The curtains billowed from a slight breeze as Goku suddenly turned me over on my stomach, draping his body across mine. My half-opened eyes could see a slight tremor in his arm that held him up with knuckles as white as our mattress. I wasn’t a completely active participant. I was trying to enjoy the closeness instead of worrying about when it would end. Thankfully, for once, Goku felt the same.

His hands moved to my hips, forcing me closer and pushing his pulsating arousal deeper within me. He was shaking trying to restrain himself; I could feel drips of sweat on my back. My heart pounded when he groaned my name and his fingers slipped between my legs, drawing a surprised mewl from my lips. I squirmed against him as he gently touched me, holding my rotating hips steady with his other hand. I’d been struggling to hold back in the hopes of enjoying him for as long as possible but it was impossible.

Biting down on the sheets wasn’t enough to keep me completely silent. I whimpered softly as Goku’s fingers intensified my climax, jellying my body with an intense rush of pleasure that tingled all the way down to my toes, making them curl tightly. He growled again deeper than before and ground into me as I tightened and twitched around him, shivering in ecstasy and moaning into the covers.

Then I was on my back again, licking my lips when the sensation tapered away, leaving me underneath my excited Saiyan husband. Goku’s black eyes riveted on my face and he gritted his teeth with every thrust that brought his body deep into mine. I raised my hips toward his and closed my eyes.

 “Again,” he grunted.

I peered up at him through the darkness. Sex brought out the other side of Goku. “What?”

Suddenly his mouth was on my breasts and I hardly held back my shocked squeal. He pulled my nipples gently between his lips and ground into me with desperate speed. I was abruptly brought from the bottom of pleasure back up to the top and pulling at his thick black hair with wide eyes.

When I came to my peak again Goku quickly closed his mouth over mine to keep me from crying out. The sheets had slithered off our bodies to the floor and I could see his reflection in our wardrobe mirror; my eyes rolled back watching the way his hips rolled into mine. My muscles were convulsing when I felt him mercifully spilling inside of me, grunting a few moments later and pressing harder on my mouth. I held his sides with my thighs as he pulsated and twitched to completion.

We were both panting, which was sort of a big deal for Goku. He rested his forehead on mine and closed his eyes, still inside me. I was still shaking from a mixture of a pleasure and fear.

He swallowed hard. “We’ll both come home. I promise.”

Both of us rose for the day. Piccolo had been staying in and around the house for the past three years to be constantly nearby while Goku and Gohan trained. Things had been quiet otherwise—Bulma and Vegeta were busy with their own son, Trunks, and I had been keeping a close eye on Goku to make sure his heart virus didn’t suddenly attack him. But nothing altered. He was as healthy as ever.

As I pulled my hair into a ponytail I glanced in the mirror to see Goku sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window. I dropped my gaze. It felt like I was interrupting something private.

 “What do you want for breakfast?” I asked, rearranging things on my vanity. “I wasn’t able to get much bread for toast but I have plenty of eggs and bacon. Does that sound okay to you?”

Goku was silent for a few moments. He rubbed the back of his neck and his hand hung there as the sun began to rise in the sky. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Everything seemed normal in the kitchen. Gohan was talkative, excited about how powerful his training had made him, and Piccolo sat quietly watching the two Saiyans eat. Goku began to open up more and his appetite became as ferocious as ever until the kitchen was almost empty. I threw my hands up in defeat when he and Gohan polished off the last of the five dozen eggs I bought.

They got ready. I straightened Gohan’s outfit and kissed him on the forehead before he left the house to stand beside Piccolo, smiling up at him. Goku came to stand in front of me, back to be stony-faced and pensive. It was borderline unnatural. I hoped our night together would make him feel better.

 “I’ll see you soon,” I said, kissing his cheek. “Take care of Gohan.”

I stood by the window and watched the three of them fly off into the distance. All I could do was wait around the house, cleaning and cooking and praying they would be okay.

It seemed like I was always stuck on the sidelines, helpless. When I had reunited with Goku at the Martial Arts Tournament I was an accomplished fighter for being a human and never imagined I would be content with sitting around. But there was nothing else I could do—I would be in the way if I tried to intervene. I dusted shelves and flipped through books, trying to occupy myself. The threat would be over and everything would go back to normal.

Then, my door burst open.

A face I hadn’t seen in years flew into my kitchen: it was Yajirobe, and he had my unconscious husband draped over his back. I shrieked in horror and flew out of my chair so fast that it clattered to the floor, immediately demanding to know what had happened. Yajirobe dragged Goku up the stairs to our bedroom that I had meticulously cleaned and set him gently on the floor. I knelt beside him, pressing the back of my palm to his forehead. He was boiling hot, grimacing in agony.

 “The heart virus attacked him in the middle of a fight,” Yajirobe said, almost as panicked as I was. “Where’s the cure?! He doesn’t have much time!”

I practically flew from the bedroom to the bathroom. I ripped the door to the medicine cabinet from its hinges, spilling all kinds of things in the sink and on the floor. Where the hell had I put it?! Goku seemed fine so I never thought to keep tabs on the damned thing…

Then I laid eyes upon the purple bottle and snatched it in an instant. Yajirobe already had Goku on a makeshift bed on the floor where he could sweat out, saving our mattress. He placed his head on a pillow and I dropped to my knees beside my husband once again, cradling his head in my arm. Goku suddenly howled in pain like I had never heard before and I remembered our wedding night.

_“Chi-Chi?” he mumbled, squinting at me through the darkness. “Chi, please help. I.. I feel so weird… so sick…” He clutched his head and I could’ve sworn I heard him growl._

_Sweat was pouring down his body. He could hardly keep his eyes open and the doorframe groaned from supporting his weight. He was pleading with me, begging for relief from the blinding agony. All I did was slide under the covers to hide, eyes tearing in fear. I couldn’t help him._

 “What the hell are you doing?!”

The medicine was ripped from my hands and the top popped off. I sat in silence, trembling as Yajirobe glared at me while pouring the cure in Goku’s mouth. My husband’s head twisted from side to side and he tugged desperately at his chest before screaming in pain, thrashing under the thin sheet. Yajirobe swore and tried to hold down one of Goku’s arms but he was still powerful in his illness.

It had been almost ten years since I married Goku. The sight of him in such pain reminded me that I was still scared to death of losing him. I was still afraid to admit that my husband had weaknesses.

Ten long, tense days passed in my home. Yajirobe stayed to make sure I took care of Goku, occasionally peering in the room to check on him. I would only leave his side to bring something back to eat or visit the bathroom. A few days passed before he stopped shifting around in pain and simply laid there while the medicine went to work. I stroked his hair, questioning my own inner strength. Had I become that weak? Was my outer personality a façade to hide the instability inside?

On the tenth day I had left the room briefly to make lunch for Yajirobe and myself. We hadn’t spoken much. I knew he hung around Goku when they were younger. I quietly stirred the soup I was making from scratch, stuck in a cycle of fear, when I heard creaking from the staircase.

Goku was rubbing his eyes. “Gee, I feel like I just slept for a month.”

I immediately dropped my ladle and ran to him, leaping into his arms without a second thought. He yelped in surprise, hardly catching me in time, and stumbled backwards. We’d come too close again. I had almost lost the light of my life. It was getting harder and harder to bear.

There wasn’t time for a long reunion. Again I stood by and watched Goku prepare himself, promising _again_ to bring Gohan home safely. It was horrible but I had hardly thought of our son. He was getting older and Goku told me he thought he would surpass him one day. I clasped my hands politely in front of myself, leaning up on my tiptoes to kiss Goku when he left.

He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be back. Cell won’t know what hit him.”

Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. The vicious cycle had no end.

I smiled tightly. “You be careful, Goku. Don’t get into too much trouble, okay?”

Yajirobe left with him and I stood on the porch to watch Goku’s orange ensemble fade beyond the clouds. The mountain became quiet again. All I could hear were the birds chirping in the trees, my only solace in my lonely home. I sagged against the door and tried not to cry.


	11. Chapter the Eleventh

Papa sat across from me at the kitchen table with his hands folded politely while I tapped my fingers impatiently upon the wood. We had tended to the garden for most of the day waiting for Goku and Gohan to come home and I was growing more nervous by the minute. My fears were coming true. I had a cold feeling in my stomach that my son would come home alone, clothes torn and cheeks streaked with tears. I couldn’t bear to see his agony again.

 “Aren’t you hungry, Chi-Chi?” papa asked.

The crickets were chirping outside, heralding the new spring. It was a balmy evening that any other woman would have enjoyed to herself but I was trapped in my own terror, struggling to keep my expression flat. I’d failed Goku during his illness. The pressure had crushed me; dredged memories of our honeymoon and the paralyzing grins he directed toward me when the moon hovered bright and full overhead. I had seen the monster between his panting and gnashed teeth.

My chair creaked as I shifted to cross my arms. “I’m fine, papa. The boys will be home soon enough and we can all have dinner together as a family.”

We waited for a long time, ears strained against the nighttime sounds for the whir of energy as the two landed outside. I didn’t stand out of fear that it would drown out their arrival and papa remained likewise statuesque, not doubt afraid to incite my wrath. The candle on the table flickered and tears stirred in my eyes as time dragged on, tormenting me.

Then I heard my son’s laughter outside.

In ten seconds flat I was out of my chair and flung open the door just in time to bump into my husband, blinking down at me in surprise. Beside him stood Gohan with an equally perplexed expression, like I should have known from the beginning that they would come home to me. For the second time that day I burst into tears and flung myself upon Goku, quickly forcing our son to join in the embrace. Papa wrapped his arms around all of us and my doubt trickled away with every tear.

I held Goku at arm’s length and looked down at Gohan to see they were both strangely untouched for such a cataclysmic battle. Cell was supposed to be powerful and my husband hadn’t gotten much time to train. When I peered up at him questioningly his tight smile twisted my heart into knots again.

 “What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing between my husband and son in terror. “Did something happen to one of the others?”

 “No, everyone is okay.” Goku rubbed the back of his head and grimaced. “We didn’t fight today, though. Cell was there and everything but he gave us nine days to gather ourselves before the Cell Games start because a few of us still have training to do. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

 “But… but what about you and Gohan? Will you two be okay?”

Gohan started to reply but his father suddenly clapped him hard on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. Goku’s smile was as radiant as ever but I could tell he was hiding something.

 “Don’t worry about anything,” Goku said. “We have nine days to relax and it’s gonna be Gohan’s birthday soon! After that, we’ll get rid of Cell and everything will go back to normal again.”

Empty promises were frequent from my husband. I stared at him for a few more seconds before stepping aside to allow him and Gohan into the house, followed shortly by my father. They all sat at the table and I used what food I had left from their enormous lunch to make dinner, but I reminded Goku I would need to go shopping. They all laughed while they ate and I quietly sipped on my soup.

Gohan was exhausted and went to bed afterwards and papa returned back to the castle, leaving me with Goku at the kitchen table. We were sitting across from one another in the darkness with only the candle to illuminate our faces. I smiled weakly at him and reached across the table to grasp his hands that were folded together with white knuckles. He didn’t look up at me, much to my chagrin.

Three years of peace weren’t enough for me. Another nine days weren’t enough, either. I had seen that the light didn’t touch Goku’s eyes when he assured me everything would be okay but I ignored it. He’d never been so pensive in all the years I had known him, though we spent what felt like an eternity apart.

I’d always imagined knowing the man I married inside and out, being able to read him and know even the smallest glance. Goku was a deceptively simple enigma. I stroked his hand with my thumb and his expression hardened further; he was pulling away from me. It was the worst kind of pain knowing he was hiding the truth. Did he think I was too fragile? That I would shatter under the next revelation?

“Bulma has a baby,” Goku said suddenly.

I frowned. “With who? Vegeta?!”

 “Yes. They really do live together now. His name is Trunks and she brought him to watch.”

 “Oh… that’s too bad. I hoped she would be with someone a bit more stable.”

Goku’s scowl deepened until I thought it would cave inward. “Yeah, me too. Are you ready for bed?”

Surprised, I couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion. “Goku, I’ve been waiting here in a bundle of nerves for you to come home safely. I’m not going to sleep any time soon.”

Things were quiet for a few more minutes. My eyes were beginning to droop but I wanted to just be in his conscious presence for a bit longer so I knew he wasn’t a dream. Goku stood, withdrawing his hands from mine and jerking his head toward the door. I turned to watch him stride out without a second glance in my direction and in spite of all of those goddamn nights I swore to myself I wouldn’t follow him, I hurried into the darkness behind the familiar orange shirt.

We walked through the forest, with Goku several strides ahead and me struggling to keep up. I pushed aside branches and angrily demanded he help me but my husband was absent, intent on his destination. Tears stung at the corners of my eyes as I tripped over roots and steadily fell behind him. He was unbearable. He wouldn’t even pause for a second so I could get my bearings.

Our walk came to a stop in a familiar clearing with a lake I would never forget. I hesitated at the edge of the trees, breathing catching in my throat. It had been over a decade since we last visited the clearing and they weren’t exactly good circumstances. The moon reflected off of the lake as Goku came to a stop in front of it, turning to look at my inquisitively. His eyes were dark and imploring. I took another step back, considering going back home.

Goku beckoned me. “C’mere, Chi-Chi. I missed you the whole day.”

 “Is something wrong?” I asked, slowly leaving the safety of the trees. “You seem upset.”

 “What? Me, upset?” Then his expression dropped to confusion and he puckered his lips, squinting towards the sky. “No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty happy that I get to see you and we have a whole nine days before anything bad happens. Come sit with me.”

It looked like Goku, it sounded like Goku, but the Saiyan was still there.

I was over 30 years old and still felt like an awkward schoolgirl approaching my own husband. Goku smiled and sat down when I was a few feet away, politely gesturing for me to do the same. The grass was cool and the lake still—it was truly a perfect evening. I kept my legs crossed politely while Goku had his sprawled out toward the edge of the lake as he looked up at the cloudy sky.

Tense, I looked up along with him. “Everything’s going to be fine, right?”

 “Yeah, he said, “it’s gonna be alright.”

Neither of us spoke for a while, again plunging into silence. I traced the outlines of what constellations I could discern through the clouds while Goku leaned forward to swirl water around his index finger, still intensely focused. The breeze ruffled my hair and I closed my eyes. It had been so long since I last relaxed with my husband for more than five minutes. We’d all go on a picnic. Me, Goku, Gohan, and papa could go further up the mountain with all kinds of sandwiches and desserts.

 “Can’t you make Bulma kick Vegeta out of her house?”

I glanced at Goku, irritated by his request. “No. Bulma and I aren’t exactly close and it’s none of my business. Plus, they have a child together so I’m sure she wants Vegeta to be around, even if he’s a dense brute like you.”

 “I’m just worried,” Goku said quietly. He was hunched over the lake now, trailing the glassy surface with his fingers to excite fish.

 “Why? She’s an adult so she can take care of herself. Stop trying to protect everyone.”

 “I can’t help it. I think of him in her house and I just don’t like it.” Goku turned to face me, sitting cross-legged only a foot away. “You know it’s in my nature to protect people.”

 “I wish it was in your damn nature to stay home with your wife and son,” I snapped.

My husband’s mouth twisted into a frown, sad black eyes boring through me. “Me too.”

It pierced my soul in incalculable ways. I set my jaw and looked away from him to the sky again, reminding myself that he had caused me too much pain to allow it to slip away with a puppy-dog face. Goku deserved to suffer like I had. He was back for a measly nine days before he left to risk his life again, perhaps leaving me as a widow with a nearly teenage son to raise. He promised and promised but they always seemed to fall through.

In my heart, I knew Goku wouldn’t come home to me after this fight. I could feel it freezing inside my bones, rendering me stiff and cold behind him. I was always going to lose him.

Warm skin touched my chin and I jolted back from Goku but he held my face firm between his fingertips with an ancient sadness broiling in his eyes. Tears brimmed in my own at the sight of his wordless confirmation that I was going to be trapped in our lonely home again, trying to instill in Gohan that his father loved him no matter what. I wouldn’t be alone in my suffering. We would all feel the crushing blow when my husband left the world permanently.

 “You can come back,” I whispered as he kissed a tear from my cheek.

 “I can’t. They all want _me_. If I want to protect Earth and my family, you can’t try to bring me back. We use the Dragon Balls as a crutch and it’s time someone else takes over here.”

 “Y-you’re still young! Goku, please, you can’t—”

His lips pressed to the corner of my mouth. “Shh, we still have nine whole days, Chi-Chi. Let’s not worry about it right now, okay? I just want to enjoy the time I have with my family before the Cell Games.”

It was a simple and saintly request. I nodded, choking back tears as Goku kissed me tenderly, rapidly deepening the gesture and pressing me to the cool grass. He hovered above me for only a few seconds before burying his face in the crook of my neck without rising again. Our passion mounted and I eagerly accepted Goku into my body yet again, desperate to give him anything and everything.

We lay together in the dark arms of the night, utterly naked against it. Goku held me protectively and gently ran his fingertips through my hair in a pensive sort of way. And just as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt a warm drop of water on my collarbone.


	12. Chapter the Twelfth

 “D’you think Gohan will be lonely without me around?”

Our son was tumbling through the swaying grass, dappled in sunshine and laughing as Piccolo looked on with one eye open. It was a deceptively calm day that was rare on Mt. Paozu and we had all decided to take advantage of it before the weather turned for the worse. Lunch had been ready for nearly an hour but I didn’t have the heart to interrupt Gohan’s frolicking and I certainly didn’t want to move my husband from our place of solace beneath a towering oak tree.

Goku’s blonde head was on my lap and he turned away from watching Gohan to look up at me, blinking. The wind gently brushed his hair back. “Do you?”

I smiled. I was leaning against the tree with half-lidded eyes, only vaguely aware of Gohan’s antics. He had surpassed his father—Goku was certain our son would be the key to defeating Cell. My sweet Gohan had been cursed with power he didn’t truly want that consistently put him in the spotlight. I wanted the ordeal to be over so he could return to diligently studying.

My fingers combed through my husband’s hair and his eyes closed. We’d been resting together for a while and my thighs were going numb from being bent for so long but I couldn’t move. I didn’t dare shatter out brief, glass perfection reflecting across the landscape. It was the dream I had chased ferociously from the beginning when I first hypothesized that relationships were akin to balancing yourself upon a tightrope. We were a small, beautiful family with a small, beautiful home.

 “Gohan will be fine,” I murmured. I’d never felt so calm before. I could’ve floated into space. “He’s very fond of Piccolo and eventually Trunks will be old enough to be his friend, too. And when he goes to high school, I’m positive his friends will love him as much as we do.”

Then Goku’s light blue eyes were on mine, sad and confused. He suddenly reached up to gently grasp the back of my head and I quietly leaned over him, grasping his orange shirt in my fists. His lips were beside my ear and the peal of Gohan’s laughter faded into the distance as his father spoke.

 “Will he hate me, Chi-Chi?”

 “Gohan will never hate you.”

Fingers knitted through my hair. “…Will you hate me, Chi-Chi?”

We’d been to hell and back together, and sometimes, we had braved our own personal demons alone. I had seen the Saiyan in Goku on our wedding night and various times thereafter, exposing me to his primal side that he had difficulty controlling. We had a half-Saiyan son together who was as brilliant as he was powerful. Goku had died tragically, leaving me alone and my son in Piccolo’s possession. I’d lost them both again when they left to fight Frieza and Goku had taken an extended trip.

There had been seemingly endless cold nights. Gohan would comfort me but I was afraid to show my weakness before my son and lashed out in a controlling manner, struggling to maintain my position as the foundation of our unorthodox family. But there had always been a promise that Goku would return, even if it was later than I hoped. He always came back to me, grinning and apologetic.

Why was it that our three years of peace had been gone in an instant, while the year Goku was dead lasted a lifetime? Our five years before that damn Raditz had ruined my carefully construed perfection had been trying but well worth the heartache. It felt like I had been cheated. We were both thirty years old, and I had barely any fond memories of my husband to cling to when he left me for good.

I leaned back a bit to smile down at Goku, tenderly touching his blonde hair. I selfishly wished I could’ve spent our remaining days together with his regular appearance. It was the end, after all. There would be no more cold dinners while I awaited his return home; no more irritated demands that Gohan fetch his father. We had married at 18 but I was worlds apart from my husband.

Where had the time gone?

Tears brimmed in my eyes and I hurriedly wiped them away. “It’s too early to be talking like this. Why don’t you go spend some time with Gohan and Piccolo? I think lunch is about to freeze.”

A strong hand caught my wrist and pulled it away from my face. Goku sat up and his fingers twisted through mine, tugging me into his arms. I clung to him desperately, praying it was all just a cosmic joke and that he would come back to me no matter what. He had no duty to anyone else.

 “You’re right,” Goku said. “I guess I’m being a little negative, huh?”

Then he was gone, and there was a flash of orange as he tackled Gohan into the grass. I struggled to compose myself while Piccolo’s eye shifted focus to me before quickly moving away. Emotion made him uncomfortable, which I could empathize with. There were still nearly seven days to go so there was no use getting so upset the first damn day. We could save the crying for the morning my boys left.

Soon I returned to the quiet house to finish fixing lunch while I listened attentively to the sound of Goku and Gohan laughing. Krillin was intending on coming by as well so I had made a bit more than usual and hoped it would suffice. I transferred the sandwiches to a platter and poured lemonade from a dripping jug into plastic cups that wouldn’t shatter quite as easily under the pressure of Goku and Gohan’s new strength. I’d been furious that they wanted to spend every waking moment with their blonde hair.

Goku had nearly killed me when he patted me on the back reassuringly and I’d considered throwing him out of the house. Of course, I wasn’t strong enough, and allowed him back inside after he spent the day cleaning up the yard around the house. We made love late that night while Gohan trained with Piccolo, who grudgingly demanded a wage for babysitting our son. It wasn’t that I was avoiding Gohan—I just knew his father would make sure he came back in one piece. Goku, on the otherhand…

I paused in arranging the drinks on a separate tray, closing my eyes to reminisce on the past two days. They had been wonderful. Goku immersed himself in his home life and we had giggled like teenagers in bed, far different from our usual silent evenings when we had to restrain ourselves. I knew it was better to pull myself away and brace for the loss but I couldn’t.

 “Goku isn’t coming back, is he?” asked a deep voice.

Piccolo had a habit of appearing from absolutely nowhere with his arms folded like he had always been waiting. I gasped in shock and jolted back, almost knocking over the sandwiches, while he impatiently waited for my reply. He was almost as bad as Vegeta, and that was saying something.

I sniffed. “I don’t know, maybe you should talk to him about that. I’m trying to make lunch for those of us that need to eat.”

 “Hmph. You’re the only one he’ll admit it to.”

 “Well, that’s how it’s going to have to be. I can’t go spreading Goku’s secrets around.”

 “Damn human,” he grumbled before picking up the tray of sandwiches.

Krillin was outside with Goku and Gohan and my husband was rubbing his forehead like he had been struck by something. I called them to the picnic table and they flocked excitedly; Goku even kissed me on the cheek before he sat down. Dumfounded, I wiped my hands on my apron and watched my husband and son shovel endless sandwiches into their mouths while Krillin shook his head with mixed horror and admiration. Piccolo looked utterly revolted.

Goku turned with a mouth full of food and patted the spot between himself and Gohan. I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to risk getting bread all over my cheongsam, but my husband pulled me down on the seat and eagerly began discussing Android 18 with Krillin. Gohan smiled up at me, blue eyes sparkling.

 “This is really good, mom!” he said. “You make the best food _ever_! It’s nothing like the gross berries and dinosaur meat I had to eat when Piccolo was training me. Blegh, I’d much rather have sandwiches and lemonade forever.” He peered past me at his father. “Right, dad?”

Our son was a budding genius, a light I had noticed in him from the beginning. He was well aware that Goku wouldn’t return, though I knew he would never outright say it. I rolled my eyes and wiped food from the corner of Gohan’s mouth while Goku sang praises about my cooking. No, Gohan would never hate his father. Thankfully, he didn’t have that kind of evil inside him.

 “Jeez, that was delicious,” Krillin said, patting his stomach. “Can’t eat too much, though. I’ve still got some training to do with Yamcha and Tien. Are you gonna come along, Goku?”

 “Gohan and I have hit our max,” my husband said. “There isn’t much else we can do, so we decided to spend the time with Chi-Chi.”

 “I think they’re just looking for the food,” I said to Krillin.

We all laughed and talked and life felt normal. Stories were traded, I giggled at a few Krillin told about Goku during his younger days, and Gohan listened with rapt attention to our tale about finding the Bansho Fan to retrieve my mother’s wedding dress. The day was over too soon.

Gohan hugged me tightly about the waist before flying off to meditate with Piccolo, once again leaving Goku and I alone in our small home. I wouldn’t force Gohan to leave home if he didn’t want to but again, I firmly believed he understood the situation and wanted to give us time to ourselves. Goku and I watched quietly as our son vanished over the horizon, trailing after his mentor.

Warm hands alighted upon my shoulders. “You’re right, Chi-Chi. He’s gonna be fine.”

The nights were becoming more urgent but we were still thoroughly enjoying ourselves. Goku’s mouth moved excitedly against mine in our bedroom and he peeled his shirt off while I toyed with the clasp on my dress irately, struggling to get free of it in time. He held my face firmly between his palms and deepened the kiss so I stumbled with a squeal and collapsed on the bed. I threw a pillow at him while he laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

 “That’s not funny, you buffoon!” I hissed through the darkness.

 “Aww, c’mon Chi.” He pulled me to my feet again, restricting me in his arms to unhook my cheongsam so it slid in a quiet heap to the floor.

My husband pressed me to the sheets and eagerly kissed my neck while my murmurs of protest were lost in breathy panting. It was strange at first having a pair of blue eyes watching me through our shadowy bedroom instead of Goku’s intense and at times intimidating dark irises but I grew accustomed to it. We played together and I laughed into his collar bone when he nibbled on my earlobe, tilting my hips to meet his in a single, fluid motion.

It was obvious that all of our nights together would inevitably result in pregnancy but it seemed so far away to me. Goku pulled me on top of him, grasping my waist so his thumbs pressed into the arch of my hip bones. I moved deliberately and ran my fingers along his ribbed abdomen, marveling at how beautiful he looked sweating under the moonlight. His eyes rolled back and suddenly, I was underneath him again, legs wrapped tightly around his waist while I moaned and pulled on his hair.

The bed creaked in protest as we both reached our climax and I could only moan Goku’s name as my frantic inner spasms finally pulled him free of his own arousal. He turned me on my stomach and ground into me with several loud grunts before I felt him swell inside me and shudder. His fingers slipped past my hip bone to stroke me, eliciting more moans into the pillows.

 “Mmm… Bulma…”

My eyes widened but I was momentarily helpless, clutching the sheets as Goku finally pulsated to his end. He drooped over me, both arms on either side of my ribcage, and rested his forehead against my back, panting and trying to catch his breath. He was trembling from head to toe.

I struggled away from him to flip over on my back and slap him hard across the face. He recoiled in fear and shock, holding his wounded cheek while I furiously looked on.

 “ _Bulma_?” I echoed. “Just what the hell were you thinking about, Goku?!”

 “D-did I say B-Bulma?” Goku asked, stammering and turning pale. He scrambled backwards, falling off the bed when I began angrily swatting him with a pillow. “It was a mistake, Chi-Chi! My head gets all tangled up sometimes towards the end and—”

 “Shut up!” I shrieked, pursuing him as he hastily crawled away. “That’s why you’ve been so concerned about her. Are you always imagining her?!”

 “No, no, it was only a few times! And—”

 “A few times?! A FEW TIMES?!”

My husband covered his head while I beat him repeatedly with the pillow, trying to gain leverage to suffocate him. He kept apologizing profusely and swore it had only been a ‘once or twice’ which only served to fan the flames of my rage. I couldn’t believe it—my Goku, thinking of someone else in the middle of sex? And it was Bulma, no less! I dreaded the self-satisfied expression on her face if and when she found out. I’d always known she was after Goku, right from the beginning.

Then he grasped my wrists and moved me back to the bed, restraining me bent over the mattress. I screamed and thrashed, burning with anger, and one of Goku’s hands slid across my mouth to keep me quiet. He held me still until I finally stopped fighting, though I was still absolutely livid.

 “I’m… I’m sorry,” he said. “But…” He shifted behind me and pressed down harder, bracing for my reaction. “Well, Bulma’s pretty, so sometimes I pretend she’s…”

 “What?” I snapped.

 “…I don’t wanna say it; you’ll think I’m weird.”

I tried kicking him to no avail. “I doubt _anything_ could surprise me now! Please tell me all about how you’re thinking of Bulma while we’re in bed together. I’d love to hear it.”

 “It’s not only Bulma,” he said, suddenly insistent. “I don’t stop thinking about you or anything like that. But… she’s really pretty and you’re really pretty, so I figured if both of you were here at the same time, that would be a good combination. I don’t want you to be gone, Chi-Chi.”

With an exasperated groan, I buried my face in the sheets. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Goku was a man just like the rest of them. What an insufferable moron.


	13. Chapter the Thirteenth

The worst part was that I wasn’t allowed to stay mad at Goku. It was a luxury I had to be denied—he could be gone forever in just a few short days, and I would cry and cry like I had all those years ago and regret until my heart stopped beating. I was only granted a brief day of respite to turn away from his hesitant smiles and twiddling fingers; to ignore the shuffling of his boots upon the floor. The way his voice carried so soft and sad across the kitchen brought hot tears to my eyes.

Other women could stay angry as long as they liked without worrying about losing their husbands to sadistic aliens. They could wave him off or shriek or demand an apology. I wanted normalcy. I wanted to set my son down in a chair and teach him myself, but that was difficult when I had a home to run on my own. Goku tore me asunder like a tidal wave, ripping me from the shore and violently tossing me about until I couldn’t feel a damn thing any longer.

Three days. I was standing at the sink, scrubbing a particularly nasty pot, when I heard his weight creaking on the floor boards. I stiffened but continued my work diligently. Gohan was upstairs in his bedroom chattering away with Piccolo about the upcoming battle. At least our son didn’t have to bear the burden of knowing his father’s ultimate fate.

Goku scuffed his boots on the floor. “…D’you want any help, Chi?”

I could picture his exact position and facial expression. He would have his hands clasped in front of him, twisting his thumbs together and eyeing me like a wounded dog. His shoulders were hunched and he lingered by the edge of the kitchen, ready to bolt at the first sign of aggression. A sad smile might touch his lips when he remembered the older days and he would hope for a second that everything would be okay—that I would throw my hands in the air and forgive him.

The small victories were always my husband’s. I couldn’t recall winning much during our marriage, save for recent happenings with Gohan. But they were illegitimate; a lie. It was to keep me satisfied and quiet and preserve the fragile peace in our small home nestled in the mountains.

 “You can dry the dishes,” I said tersely.

Goku lost all inhibition as he always did in moments of happiness. He took my mild forgiveness as an outright invitation and I found myself hoisted from the floor with the wet cloth still clenched in my grasp. I shrieked at him to put me down and told him not to touch me but he was laughing and twirling me around and I made the mistake of looking at him. Why was he always so happy? Why?

There would be so many more cold, lonely nights that no one could fill. I would lie on my side and stare at his side of the bed and cry into my pillow and Gohan would pretend not to hear me. My husband wasn’t coming back to me. Did he even care? He was always so damn happy that I could never tell how he really felt. Emotion came from Goku in short, violent bursts.

I slumped forward against his chest and he narrowly caught me before I fell to my knees. The tears flowed like they always did, and I was reduced to nothing more than a sobbing housewife in my husband’s uncertain arms. He held me gently with one hand placed against the back of my head and I leaned all of weight into him like I always had. My rock. My safe haven in the storm.

Then I felt a cool breeze against my cheek and the chirps of the crickets had intensified. I didn’t want to look up from Goku’s chest because I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go, but he seemed to understand. He sat down and pulled me into his lap to let me cry without fear of being overheard.

Alone, alone. I was going to be all alone in a few short days. Gohan would undoubtedly come back to me, and I couldn’t have imagined the world without my beautiful son, but my heart would never be whole again. Goku would never sleep beside me. I would never wake to his dark eyes regarding me lazily in the early morning light. I would never smack him away when he promptly rolled on top of me. We would never have breakfast together. We would never kiss. We would never meet _our_ grandchildren.

The wind swayed through the trees. Goku softly pulled my hair away from my face to keep it from getting wet while I cried. I wondered if he ever cried when I wasn’t around to see it. Of course he would never show me that kind of weakness. He had to be feeling just as defeated as I did.

 “Goku,” I whispered, fingering his shirt, “you have to come back to me.”

It was better that I couldn’t see his reaction. He probably tightened his jaw, debating my request. He hugged me tightly and kissed the crown of my skull, never loosening his grip. Oh, Goku, please hold me forever. Please don’t damn me to an eternity without you by my side. Please don’t leave me to raise our son on my own; to stumble and make mistakes with no one to hold my hand.

 “I’m sorry about what I said the other night,” he murmured. “I… well, I know I’m kind of… you know, dumb sometimes, and I don’t think when I say things. But…” Then he sighed, exasperated. “Well, gee, Chi-Chi, if I liked Bulma that much I woulda married her instead. I’m not fickle or anything like that.”

 “You’re not dumb, Goku. Naïve to a fault, but by no means dumb.”

 “Yeah, I guess.”

Those last three days were faster than they should have been. We began to spend more time together with Gohan, functioning as a regular family before our inevitable split yet again. Our son didn’t suspect anything and enjoyed his birthday party as much as I had hoped. He watched Goku with stars in his eyes. Daddy was still going to destroy the big, bad monster.

I struggled to stay awake on the final night. Goku had drifted off long ago: he needed plenty of sleep to do battle with another sadistic alien. My eyes were heavy with exhaustion but I forced myself to gaze at his prone form and swallow every detail I could. It was the last time I would feel his warmth. I wouldn’t be able to marvel at his smooth, imposing musculature or bitterly reminisce on our first years of marriage. My husband would be dead.

It tore me apart when I finally succumbed and fell asleep.

 “…I love you, Chi-Chi.”

Goku’s voice seemed distant. I assumed I was dreaming and curled into the sheets, uninterested in waking _. Goku… please don’t leave me._  I was only 30 years old. I was too young to be a widow.

Lips pressed to my forehead and I felt a warm droplet on my cheek.

I bolted upright in bed, heart hammering madly, to see the sun was already high in the sky. There were no other noises. The television wasn’t playing. The smell of breakfast didn’t waft up from the kitchen. Goku said he and Gohan had to leave early to meet Cell. Did they already abandon me? Were they fighting him at that very moment for the fate of the Earth?

Terrified, I leapt out of bed clad in Goku’s shirt that I had borrowed after we had made love the night before. It wasn’t in my nature to be seen in anything less formal than my cheongsams but I could barely breathe from the fear—had they left me? Goku didn’t even say goodbye.

I flung open the front door just in time to see Goku with his hand on Gohan’s shoulder and two fingers pressed to his forehead. My son turned to blink in shock at me as I tripped over myself, tears already streaming down my face. Goku swallowed so hard I could see his Adam’s apple bob. He dropped his arm in defeat and for a flicker of hope ignited within me. Would he stay with me?

Laughing and sobbing, I leapt into Goku’s arms and buried my face in his chest, trying in vain to remember his exact scent. I would douse the whole house in pine needles and burn a fire every day to try to remember him. If I slept next to something warm, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard.

My husband hesitated with his arms loosely wrapped about me before deciding to tighten his grasp and clutch the back of my head, no longer considering Gohan. I clung to Goku’s hair—couldn’t he see how badly I needed him?—and I wanted to whisper into his ear a demand to come home with Gohan but I knew it was too risky. I couldn’t tell our son what I already knew, even if it killed me hiding the truth.

And I felt warm wetness drip into my hair.

Goku set me back down and I only caught a brief glimpse of his slightly reddened eyes. He nodded firmly to Gohan and grasped our surprised son’s arm again, averting his eyes from me. I smiled through my tears, trying to be encouraging to Gohan, knowing if I looked at his father again I would lose control of myself. I wrung my hands feverishly when Goku’s focus tightened as he picked up the location he needed to teleport to.

Unfathomable black eyes flickered to mine in the last instant and for the second time in my life, I saw Goku crying.

The moment they vanished I hurtled back to the house to get dressed, hoping to make it to Kame Island to watch the footage of the fight. Bulma offered to pick me up and did so rather quickly, smiling and chatting the whole time about how Goku was going to destroy Cell for good. I only managed to nod. I knew I would need people around me when the inevitable happened or I would surely sink into a horrified stupor—or worse.

It was a long and intense battle. Many times I found myself on the brink of tears or grabbing the television until papa or someone else made me move away. I was impatient; I needed to see what happened and I needed to know if Goku was never coming back to me.

There was a flash of bright light. I stared stupidly—all that was left behind was Gohan and the other Z-Fighters, all standing around in a circle screaming Goku’s name. They were all bloodied and bruised from the long fight, gawking in horror at the empty space where Cell had been moments before.

No.

No, no, no.

I took off from Kame House without a second thought and papa could hardly keep up. Goku wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be gone. He’d been saying all those things to try to prepare me in case something went seriously wrong. But Goku was _Goku_. Things didn’t go seriously wrong. I’d watched him have a hole blown through his chest that he managed to survive. There was no way some derelict alien defeated my husband without leaving a trace.

We arrived home. I paced like a madwoman, waiting for word on Gohan and Goku’s whereabouts. No, my husband didn’t have to die. We could use the other set of Dragon Balls to bring him back—surely he wouldn’t refuse to return to Earth and stay with me. Aliens be damned.

Gohan came in the door much later, wearing the shreds of his outfit he had left in with his father. I leapt out of my chair to hug him, relieved that my baby was home in one piece, and smiled weakly. It wasn’t like Goku to straggle behind.  He usually led the way.

 “Where’s your father?” I asked, leaning on my tiptoes to look out the window.

My son was staring vacantly at the ground, eyes puffy and red.

 “He’s… he’s not coming back, mom.”


	14. Chapter the Fourteenth

That night, I made dinner for my husband.

Papa had taken Gohan for the weekend and I was left alone in my small home, drying the water off my hands and smiling at the plate resting on the table. Two forks, because Goku usually broke one in his haste to eat. A pile of napkins, because Goku was a slob. A knife, because I liked to pretend Goku wasn’t a slob. A braided white place setting, because—

My eyes snapped wide open and I paused in drying my hands. The place setting… it was several centimeters off. That certainly wouldn’t do.

Trembling with suppressed rage, I ever so gently nudged the setting to its rightful place and smoothed out a small wrinkle before leaning back to smile again. There. Everything was perfect. All that was missing was my goofy husband and my genius son. When would they be home?

  _“What a brave man to sacrifice himself like that,” Papa said, trying to reassure me. “Chi-Chi, Goku knows what’s best for all of us. You just have to trust him.”_

Humming, I took three steps to the left and four forward to very carefully replace my towel over the oven’s handle. Of course Goku knew what was best for us. That was why he was going to let the Dragon Balls bring him back home to me and his son, where he was needed most. He was a bit frightened, that was all. In a short while he would come to his senses and be home in time for dinner.

I preened while I waited. I’d been crying so much that my mascara had run down my cheeks but I didn’t want to risk going to the bathroom and missing Goku’s return. The sun was setting. I began to blot my cheeks with a napkin even as fresh tears leaked from my eyes without my consent. They just kept coming. Over the past few hours, I had felt them dripping all the way down my neck. It was no matter. My husband would be home any minute to kiss them all away.

Night fell. The crickets sang outside and I stood stiffly in the kitchen with my arms crossed. The plate of chicken and carrots I’d made special for Goku was starting to go cold. He was so rude sometimes.

…Night kept falling, trying to crush me, but hope kept me paralyzed to the spot. I wasn’t sure if I would ever move again. My formerly strong muscles were leaden, weighting me down and rooting me in the cold reality that my husband was never coming back to me. I hardly blinked and stared at the door.

 “Go _kuuu_ ,” I whispered, placing emphasis on the last syllable and tapping my fingers on my forearm, “where are you? I can’t send Gohan out to fetch you tonight. Come home.”

And that goddamn door never opened.

It was around three in the morning when I finally slumped in the chair across from Goku’s, where I had watched him eat hundreds of my meals. I clutched my head and stared at the crudely polished wood; it was a table Goku made for me as an anniversary present one year. The steam had stopped rising from his plate. The entire kitchen had gone cold, quiet, and smelt of chicken.

Defeated, I slouched forward and cried into my own arms. It was the beginning of my crippling loneliness. I would never see my Goku’s smile again. I would never smack him on the back of the head when he ate while he was talking to me. He would never stand up and kiss me to apologize.

No amount of sobbing made me feel better. There was no cathartic release from my agony and I grew more disturbed with each passing minute of tears. It was supposed to make me feel better when I cried. Papa told me to ‘let it out’ and not try to hold it in like I always did, but it wasn’t changing a damn thing. Goku was dead, and he was never coming back to eat his dinner with me. Crying was shattering my insides into unrecognizable shards that shredded me in a million bloody patterns.

There was no relief for a widow. There was only the pain of irreplaceable loss and fumbling through the dark unknown for the rest of your life without the other half of your heart.

Gohan came home a few days later when I had collected myself. Of course, he was a carbon copy of his father and didn’t cry like I had. He assured me he was fine and locked himself in his bedroom for days on end, refusing to come out unless Piccolo wanted to see him or I insisted he eat something. I was afraid to push my son because I knew it was the last thing I wanted someone to do to me.

I put two grilled cheeses on his plate one afternoon several weeks later and smiled. “Gohan, you know you don’t have to be strong for me, right? I’m your mother. You can tell me if something’s wrong. There’s no shame in having emotions.”

Gohan was improving. He studied more than ever before, actively engrossing himself in difficult material, and his time with Piccolo helped his mood. He shrugged indifferently.

 “Dad made his choice,” my son said. “If he doesn’t want us, that’s fine.”

 “Honey, that isn’t true. All these space invaders are after him so he knew he had to leave.”

My son stood up suddenly and left.

That night, while I was getting ready for bed in one of Goku’s old training shirts, I began to feel very queasy. I hurried to the bathroom to vomit and sat on the floor afterwards to make sure I wasn’t going to lose anything else. I touched my forehead to see if I was running a fever but everything felt fine. Idly, I looked around the bathroom until my eyes fell upon an obscured box of pregnancy tests.

It was always a very unwelcome possibility. I decided to use them up, bitterly reminding myself that I wouldn’t need them anymore, and opened the box to take all three out. It would put my mind at ease to know that I wouldn’t have something else to worry myself with.

Ten minutes later, I was screaming with a mixture of emotions I didn’t know I had. I was _pregnant_.

My darling Goku had died only a few weeks ago and abandoned both myself and his eldest son, and to top it all off, he had left me with a little gift. I screamed and screamed for what felt like hours, proceeding to the bedroom to tear apart all of the clothes he had left behind. Goku would be erased. I wouldn’t let our son or daughter know who he was. I would destroy all traces of his existence and instruct Gohan to never reveal the truth.

Pregnant. Did he do it deliberately? Was he trying to leave one last reminder of himself behind in my body? Or was he simply not thinking of the consequences? If something happened during childbirth, our Gohan would be an orphan. Who was going to raise him? How would he fare losing both of his parents within the span of a year? Oh, Goku, you selfish bastard.

I told Gohan the next morning and he only nodded as if he had been expecting it. Like father, like son.

Carrying Goten was far easier than carrying his brother. He was rather calm during the entire pregnancy, content to only kick me when I stood up too quickly or bent down at an awkward angle. Contrary to my initial belief I was relieved to have another piece of Goku with me, even if it was only for a little while. Gohan kept true to his studies and his attitude continued to improve until the day my second son was finally brought into the world, perfect and tailless.

However, Goten’s personality was a bit of a painful reminder of what I had lost. He _was_ Goku—I was convinced for the first year that my little Goten was his father’s reincarnation. Nothing fazed the child, unlike Gohan, who had been cowardly as an infant, and he was always smiling. I loved him. I doted upon him like nothing else and soon enough his older brother was equally as enraptured.

We had our own piece of Goku to keep us company. It made the world feel just enough less lonely that Gohan and I could get through a day without thinking about him.

Goten toddled around the house with me during the day when his brother was out with Piccolo or investing himself in his studies. God, he even had his father’s crazy hairstyle. And his eyes… it was like looking right into my husband’s all over again. The years began to mesh together and I allowed Goten to train like Goku had to keep his memory alive. I didn’t press him to be a scholar. That wasn’t his path.

On one sunny day, I had taken Goten outside to brush up on his martial arts skills. I kept pushing him and pushing him to his limit, trying to see if he had the same potential as his father, when he suddenly stopped. His brows drew together in consternation and I realized with dread what was going to happen.

He erupted into golden light with no further ado and I shrieked instinctually. No, no. He would become a magnet like his father. They would all search for him—a child with such talent would be singled out to be attacked. And those damn eyes… they made me think of his father.

 “Not another monster in my family!” I wailed.

Goten quickly powered down to his normal self and hurried over to me, apologizing profusely. My poor baby was cursed with the same gift Goku had, and I knew what kind of life came with it. I wanted to protect him, but it was in his blood to do great things. Oh, Goku, why won’t you come home to me? How am I supposed to raise your second son? Should I let him attain what you did?

Weeks passed. Gohan went to his first day of school and while it was a bit overwhelming for him, he loved meeting new people. I congratulated him and marveled at how well my oldest son had grown up. He was nearly 18 years olds—had it really been that long? He was such a sweet boy.

Of course my son was a charmer and he brought home a nice girl not long after named Videl, the daughter of the unbearable Mr. Satan. She was tough as nails like I had been at her age and I vaguely wondered if my son was anything like his father behind closed doors. But it was inappropriate to ponder over and I spent my time drilling her on whether or not she was going to marry Gohan.

It wasn’t long after that when I received the news that stirred my heart.

Gohan came running through the door and threw his backpack on the couch, immediately making me turn around to scold him. But he was laughing and hurried forward to hug me in the middle of doing my dishes and I wasn’t about to let a rare embrace go unreturned. I squeezed my oldest boy and Goten curiously watched us from the corner of the kitchen.

 “What on Earth is going on?” I laughed, holding his face gently in my hands.

His dark eyes were sparkling and he grasped my wrists. “Mom, dad is coming back for a whole day to participate in the Martial Arts Tournament! Can you believe it?! Goten can meet him! I can… I can show him Videl!” He stopped and blushed. “N-Not that she’s my girlfriend or anything like that.”

In my seven years without Goku, I had perfected hiding my emotions. Though my heart was hammering and my mouth felt dry, I smiled broadly at my son and hugged him again. He was elated. I wouldn’t take that away from him over my petty emotions. Besides, Goten _could_ finally meet his father.

My Goku would be home for an entire day. At least I could see him one last time.


	15. Chapter the Fifteenth

It had been so long since I last walked around the Martial Arts tournament. All those years ago when I had fought Goku; back when I was somewhat of a challenge to him and considered to be the strongest woman on Earth. I never missed that lifestyle, though. I was content with my destiny to live as the widow of Son Goku and raise our children, both of whom were unique and gifted like their father.

So many years had gone by before I was able to come to terms with my fate, and I had cried enough tears to drown in. It felt unfair that I was cursed to such a life and the struggle was insurmountable at times, drawing me to my knees and leaving my hands clutching my face. Yet I could press forward. I had the next day to confront with Gohan and Goten at my side and though they weren’t their father, they kept his spirit alive in our home.

Goten skipped along beside me and my father walked on my opposite side. Papa had supported me, too. He checked on me constantly during the times Goku couldn’t come home, and he was tirelessly devoted to the happiness of his grandchildren. I had been so absorbed in myself that I failed to notice such things until I was nearly 40 years old. Where had the time gone?

Videl and Gohan walked in front of us and my son chatted avidly while she listened. I’d worried his strange outfit would frighten her away but grew more and more convinced that Videl Satan wasn’t leaving my son’s side any time soon. I smiled to myself. They would be very happy together: Videl would provide the same anchoring normalcy that I did to Goku and root Gohan in reality.

We paused under a tree. I was wearing a new outfit I had bought shopping with Bulma for the occasion, and I hoped Goku would appreciate it. My palms were sweating terribly and Goten pulled his hand away from mine with an offended glance. I patted him on the back and he stuck to my side, clutching the edge of my pants and looking around with wide eyes. Papa chuckled.

The others were there, of course. I wasn’t the only one who wanted to see Goku. Krillin had arrived with Android 18 and their daughter, Marron, and Yamcha was waiting with Puar. Bulma’s family was around as well, though Vegeta and Trunks were both standing off to the side with matching irate looks.

Gohan scratched his head. “Maybe dad got the wrong time?”

 “I hope he gets here soon,” I blurted, holding a hand over my heart. It was racing a mile a minute.

Everyone had begun to talk when the first flicker of orange appeared, preceding my husband. I turned excitedly, holding Goten tightly to my side as Goku materialized before us with two fingertips pressed to his forehead. He had an unfitting halo over his head to remind us that his visit was temporary.

It had been seven years. I wasn’t sure of how to feel.

 “Hiya, everyone!” Goku said cheerily.

A moment of silence passed before the crowd convened on him. Oolong and Yamcha were there first but promptly followed by Gohan and Krillin, who all nearly toppled my husband over. I flinched forward reflexively—was he fragile? Could he be taken away from me in another flash? They needed to be careful so we could keep him on Earth for as long as possible.

Goku laughed and ruffled Gohan’s hair but his dark eyes roamed across the group until they settled upon me. I smiled at him weakly, feeling tears brim in my eyes, and felt Goten slip behind me nervously. My husband furrowed his brow quizzically and gently pushed aside the group to step out. He rubbed the back of his head in the way I had missed so much and awkwardly pointed at Goten.

 “Uh… I think there’s a little me behind you, Chi-Chi,” he said.

I’d practiced their meeting with Goten several times. I knew he would be nervous meeting his father. I turned to touch my youngest son on the back and he peered around the edge of my leg.

 “I’m… I’m Goten,” he managed.

It didn’t matter to me if Goku felt guilty for leaving me to take care of our second son alone. Goku politely introduced himself and waited tensely for Goten’s reaction, afraid to approach and frighten him away. Goten’s grasp tightened minutely and he suddenly dashed the short distance to his father, leaping into his arms with a familiar, ‘Daddy!’ I heard several times from a younger Gohan.

It would’ve been prudent to take a picture and capture that moment. My husband held Goten for a few minutes, pressing him close and hiding his face in Goten’s matching training shirt. I knew I would never understand how Goku felt. It was better to stand away and allow him to feel as he needed to.

Of course, they had a tournament to compete it. I relegated myself to the stands to watch the fight and soon, another threat to Earth arrived. It was a vicious cycle: I understood why Goku had refused to return. Videl was injured terribly during a brutal fight and my poor Gohan was hurt as well, and I was helpless as all of my loved ones left me sitting alone beside Bulma. She only rolled her eyes because she had all the time in the world with her husband.

Death was all around with Majin Buu. He existed to destroy and proved too much of a challenge for Gohan. The Earth was obliterated of life only to be brought from the brink again, and I was too terrified for my living sons to worry about reuniting with their father. I worried. I panicked. I hoped Goku would be the one to protect us again. It couldn’t be the end… not yet.

The dust settled when we were all gathered on Kami’s Lookout. I held my hands together as I looked at my bruised and war-worn husband in awe. The halo was gone. He had left in the midst of battle, leaving Goten a sobbing mess and myself a poorly concealed sobbing mess, and I thought he was gone.

Was it safe to feel hope? Could I allow myself such a breakable emotion or would I be left permanently paralyzed? If Goku vanished again with no fanfare, I didn’t know what I would do.

 “You’re…” I began, “you’re… are you…?”

It was our moment. I didn’t have to share him with the others this time. Goku’s radiant smile and his open arms were all mine for the taking for the rest of my life. And there was no regret in his dark eyes that left me clinging to my fears. He was happy with the life he had been given. My husband did not want to escape from his existence by my side after all.

 “I’m home, Chi-Chi,” he said.

Goku was home, Goku was home. I was free to cry into his chest and feel his shirt in my grasp; free to cook his dinner and no longer watch as it turned cold; free to chastise him for bringing mud inside after rolling around outside like a dog. I would wake to his eyes on mine and fall asleep to his slow, quiet heartbeat beneath my ear, the soothing melody I had promised I would never forget.

So we went home.

Gohan was ecstatic to have his father back but even more enamored with Videl and he left to see her before we had reached the doorstep. Goten followed soon after to play with Trunks, who was constantly getting him into trouble, and I found myself alone with my husband of nearly 20 years. The years apart still added up in my heart. Goku was always there, warm and comforting no matter how dark the night seemed to become.

Dusk had settled on Mt. Paozu and the cicadas were singing to one another. I leaned my head on Goku’s arm and closed my eyes, content to stand outside with him for a while. He was so warm.

 “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

 “It’s been seven years, Goku. I think apologies aren’t necessary.”

He paused. “There’s no excuse for me leaving you alone and pregnant.”

 “Oh. Well Goten turned out just fine and he’s a strong boy just like you were.” I tried to push the frightening memories away and smiled up at my husband’s vacant eyes. “He can even turn into a Super Saiyan! Can you believe that? After all the hard work you and Gohan had to go through.”

 “…Yeah. He’s a strong kid.”

 “He sure is. I’m very proud of him, his older brother, and his father, no matter where they may go or how long they leave. I will always be proud to call all of you mine.”

The daylight was dying. Goku smiled at the sunset, still refusing to meet my eyes.

 “Even though I made you cry all those times?” he asked.

 “Yes. There’s no victory to be had in holding an old grudge.”

We went inside and Goku sat at the table, touching the wood to relive old memories. I puckered my lips and searched the cabinets to find something good for our first dinner together in seven years. Gohan would undoubtedly eat at Videl’s house and I assumed Goten would do the same at the Briefs’s gargantuan mansion. I leaned on my tiptoes to grab a sack of rice. My fingers brushed the edge—I only needed a few extra inches to grab it…

The chair’s legs suddenly scraped on the kitchen floor and I heard my husband’s footsteps rapidly approaching. I wriggled my digits desperately in a vain attempt to get the rice myself but presently felt Goku’s warmth behind me and gave in with a sight. I dropped back to the soles of my feet and turned to face him, smiling and preparing a funny anecdote about height.

I only saw a glint of light off the tears streaming down Goku’s cheeks before he pulled me into a fierce embrace and hid his face in the back of my neck. I’d never heard him cry before. The most I had been privy to were a few trickles of his sadness and I felt as if I was missing an entire half of him because of that. Was it because he couldn’t trust me? Did he think I was that weak?

Maybe Goku was finally able to cry because I was finally able to forgive him.

He held the back of my head and sobbed into my shirt, holding me tight enough to splinter a lesser women’s bones. Of course I couldn’t restrain myself and I started crying as well, reflexively clutching the back of his shirt to hold him as close to my body as possible. Don’t ever leave me again, Goku.

 “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 “Me too.”

 “For what? All this time, you didn’t do anything. It was always me making things bad or worse.” He was shaking. In a fluid motion, he had pulled me to the floor and had me in his lap. His grip did not loosen. “I left you all alone with Gohan and then you had another baby. I hurt you all the time when we first got married and…” He choked. “ _I’m so sorry, Chi-Chi_. I promise I love you.”

 “I… Goku, you can’t—”

 “I was wrong. I’ll never hurt you again.”

His words shook me to my bones.

We eventually detangled ourselves and I made Goku a big dinner before bed. It wasn’t his usual routine because he liked to burn the food off before sleeping but he was far more interested in spending time with me for once. He helped me wash the dishes, laughing while I told him stories about the nonsense Trunks and Goten got themselves into, and the reddish tint of his tear-stained cheeks made conversation even easier. He was human for that moment, not an emotionless Saiyan. He would pause in the middle of scrubbing a pan to watch me talk.

Goten came running through the door as we were finishing up drying the dishes. He dashed through the kitchen, knocking over a chair in the process, and leapt into Goku’s arms with the some vigor from the day they had first met. Goku hugged him tightly and looked at me. I smiled.

 “Trunks wants to see you be a Super Saiyan 3 again!” Goten said, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You make it look really cool and I promised you would! Can you?! Please?!”

 “We’ll see about that tomorrow,” Goku said. “I think it’s time for you to take a bath and go to bed.” He glanced at me again, grinning. “What d’you think, mom?”

 “I wholeheartedly agree. No more late nights for you, Goten.”

 “That’s okay! Now I can take baths with daddy!” Goten was practically luminescent with excitement. He could hardly contain himself. “C’mon dad, let’s go before Gohan comes home from Videl’s house and tries to hog you. I’m gonna tell you all about how I beat Trunks this afternoon!”

It wasn’t quite time for me to spend the hours I needed with Goku. Goten needed him more. Gohan perhaps needed him even worse. They had years to catch up on and stories to tell. I would have my quiet evenings with my husband as the boys grew and began their own lives with girlfriends and wives and children of their own. I would hold my granddaughter, Pan, in my arms and Goku would quickly volunteer to train her.

Gohan walked in the door as Goku and Goten were heading up the stairs and they were arguing within seconds over their father. I watched Goku effortlessly break up the fight and reprimand them with a stern kindness I had never mastered. He ruffled his older son’s hair and turned to look at me.

Twenty years and I had never solved the mystery in his black eyes; the stirring of duty and the conflict of his love for his family and his love for fighting. Goku was a dark paradox, but I was pleased with coming to terms with that fact. I would never know the corners of his heart that the light didn’t reach. He was a concept that was beyond even my years of weathered pondering.

But I was Son Chi-Chi, and I would remain steadfast at my husband’s side.


End file.
